Aloft
by Azii
Summary: "I'm the dishonest one, Akari? You betrayed yourself. You do want me… and it kills you, doesn't it? To desire everything you hate." Muti-chapter legal!AU. Yes, seriously. Hirato/Akari and some Yogi/Gareki. I'll also try to weave in as much of the Karneval cast as possible. Rating will change.
1. Chapter 1

I know, I know, some of you want to choke me for not finishing 'C is for Contract, D is for Demon' or writing another Major Arcana piece before starting a new story – and a multi-chapter AU at that. What can I say? I go where my muse leads. If you can wrangle that tricky minx into inspiring my in-progress works, I'd be eternally grateful.

As for this little tale, I have no idea where it's going and I'm writing a dissertation too, so expect inconsistent updates. And here's the other thing: This is totally experimental, so I won't continue this if you don't like it. I write to relieve stress, yes, but I really, really want my readers to enjoy my work. Otherwise why bother posting at all?

So, be honest. Tell me if you hate it (or if characters are OOC) and I'll find better ways to occupy both my time and yours. ;)

This is my love letter to Chicago. Even so, this ardent expression of my feelings contains quite a bit of cursing, sex, and morally bankrupt behavior. Consider yourself duly notified. Oh, and Yogi and Gareki make their debuts in the next chapter.

* * *

In retrospect, he'd wonder if it was coincidence or kismet that threw them together that night.

* * *

Hirato was the toast of Chicago. Well, he was the toast of a very narrow swath of the Windy City's population, but even trial lawyers needed their demigods. Indeed, if deification had been retained as a religious practice, the surprisingly young legal prodigy was a prime candidate. With his Yale connections and University of Chicago law degree, he was bound to be a success. Couple such an immaculate pedigree with strikingly good looks and infectious charisma, and it was no wonder that he'd made partner at the tender age of twenty-nine.

Fast cars, faster lovers, and an unimpeded trajectory straight to the top. He'd earned it, deserved it even. He was just that good.

Actually, there was someone who was better. Someone who'd always been better, in fact. But the blond-haired, fae-eyed Assistant DA preferred to put criminals _in_ prison rather than defend them. Shame, really. Criminals paid better than the city. Akari had always been like that—self-sacrificing, idealistic, trusting of the system and its so-called justice.

_Stupid_, Hirato thought as he trained his gaze on the other man from across the room. _He's always been stupid. _The blond in question was seated at the bar, head bowed over a glass of scotch, his briefcase still in tow. He was staring blankly through the floor-to-ceiling windows, completely unmoved by the skyline beyond. Hirato wondered idly why Akari would bother to come to a high-rise bar in the Loop if not for the view. Personally, he preferred to conduct all his business from aloft—advising clients, meeting senior partners, consulting with other firms, and yes, fucking whatever lucky man or woman had caught his fancy. In a sparkling city bejeweled with awe-inspiring testaments to human ingenuity, it made no sense to walk amongst the mere mortals fourty floors below.

Akari had _never_ made much sense to him, now that he thought about it. They'd been law school classmates, and even at one of the most competitive, cutthroat programs in the country, the idiotic strawberry blond would spend his free time tutoring the lowest common denominator of the L1s. He still graduated at the top of the class, of course, but that was resultant of natural aptitude rather than any ambition or concern for life's zero sum game. It was like Akari lived in his own private utopia, free from the vagaries of the world.

_He doesn't look like he's inured to harsh reality now, does he? _Hirato smirked. He quite liked seeing the other man brought low. It was sweeter knowing that Akari's defeat had come at _his _hands. The three month trial that ended this morning was destined to be a crowning moment for one or the other. The mayor's deputy, Azana, had been charged with a series of grisly high-profile murders. Thanks to Chicago's most able criminal defense attorney, he was acquitted. Hirato had been warned that it was an impossible win, but he took immense pleasure in making the impossible look easy. It helped that Akari's case had been severely damaged by the police department's mishandling of evidence. Still, that wasn't the brunet's fault; a skilled orator would have found a way to turn liability into asset. _Okay, maybe not _that _liability, _he conceded. _Still, I won. That's all that matters__. _

He'd just decided to stroll over and tease when he felt a sharp slap on his shoulder.

"Congratulations, you magnificent bastard!" His associate Tsukitachi was in particularly high spirits (no doubt after having imbibed many spirits of a different sort).

"What a pointless thing to say," he responded curtly.

Tsukitachi only sighed in resignation, as though his friend's antisocialism was a lost cause. His honey-gold eyes scanned the room for any of their acquaintances. "Is that Akari Dezart at the bar? Jesus, that poor fuck. He looks miserable." The redhead was a man of too many words and annoyingly undue familiarity, but Hirato liked him anyway. At least he was never boring, unlike most of their coworkers. "Maybe you should buy him a drink. It's your fault he's having such a shit day."

"I don't associate with losers," he replied, surprised that the words were imbued with obvious bitterness. He wasn't given to betraying himself so easily. He'd painstakingly cultivated a reputation for being an emotionless jerk. "And I don't owe him anything. I'm not at fault for his ineptitude."

"You really are a bastard, aren't you?" the other man asked with a wink.

"Only to those in my way." He glanced again at Akari, who appeared to be on his third round. Tearing his eyes away, he attended his friend. "Anyway, where's the party?"

Tsukitachi checked his watch and frowned slightly. "Late, apparently. How like lawyers to be so inconsiderate."

Said party arrived twenty minutes later, all the firm's partners and rising stars in attendance. Exorbitantly-priced champagne flowed freely, as did a number of raunchy stories and company gossip. Hirato nursed his drink and conversed politely while receiving due praise from everyone (and rather inappropriate praise from some of their number). He didn't dislike these sorts of gatherings, precisely. He simply thought of them as coming with the territory. Similar to his work they weren't unbearably torturous, but he'd never voluntarily pass his time thusly.

He'd lost track of the hour when the bar announced last call. _Hmmm, maybe I don't mind these little celebrations after all._ Or maybe he enjoyed the way his goddess of a colleague leaned against him to whisper her salacious intentions. Eva. Gorgeous, brilliant Eva. Eva, the object of covetousness for all warm-blooded members of the firm, both men and women. He could have her tonight, he knew. She'd had enough drink to be uninhibited but not too much to be rendered incapable of consent. (He was a lawyer; he thought about these things.)

"What do you say? It's a one-time offer." Aquamarine eyes leveled playfully on him. He returned her smile indulgently. It _was_ a one-time offer, that was certain. Eva wasn't interested in him as potential mate. She was far too smart for romantic entanglements in the workplace, or romantic entanglements period. She'd propositioned him because she sensed a kindred spirit—a heartless individual whose only use for a lover was the physical sort. He wouldn't trail behind her afterwards like some abandoned puppy. He'd be completely, wonderfully unattached. They'd resume their cordial, professional relationship tomorrow without interruption.

Damn, it was tempting. Sex without strings. Just like he preferred it. Furthermore, he had no doubt of the lady's prowess in that arena. He'd seen her beguile an entire courtroom with a languid cross of impossibly long legs. The night just kept getting better. If he believed in Providence, he'd have thanked whatever entity moved the universe. "What exactly are you offering?" he whispered, allowing his lips to brush along her ear. She shivered at the contact and settled a hand on his thigh under the table.

That's when he caught sight of Akari, still posted at the bar, still drowning his sorrows. _He won't make it home at this rate_. Later, he'd wonder why he did it. Why he'd made a dozen uncharacteristically sincere apologies to Eva before sending her home in a taxi. Why he'd then taken the fourty story elevator ride back up. Why he'd waited for Tsukitachi to polish off his last drink before making a move. And finally, why he'd planted himself on the stool beside Akari when the room had emptied.

"What the hell do you want?" the blond growled. "To gloat? Fine. Gloat away."

Hirato laughed softly. "That's your problem. You don't look out for number one. I'd never give someone the satisfaction of seeing me upset over a loss."

"Pardon me, but I'd rather not take life lessons from a bottom-feeding troglodyte." He swallowed the rest of his drink in one go, dropped several twenties on the bar, and attempted to stand. That he was unsuccessful at standing was unsurprising. Akari swayed, gripping the edge of the bar to steady himself.

"Is this your seventh or eighth drink?"

"Honestly, I can't remember," he answered with a shrug. "I'm going home, so it's of little consequence."

Another soft chuckle. "Well, I suppose I'll have to tap my paltry reserves of humanitarianism," he stood and slipped an arm around the other man's waist. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."

Akari struggled to pull away. "Get off me before I press charges," he huffed, tiring himself with the effort of breaking free. "I'll call a cab."

"In your state, you'd be lucky to make it anywhere without getting taken by your cabbie."

"Why do you care?"

Ah, that was the question, wasn't it? Why he bothered with a man who had been the bane of his existence. Deciding he'd worry about that later, he marched Akari out of the bar, one arm banded about him while the other held fast to the Assistant DA's briefcase. Unbelievably, they made it to the parking deck without further incident or venomous exchanges. Having settled Akari in the passenger seat of his Benz, he slipped behind the wheel and considered the absurdity of the situation. If his partners found out that he'd been riding around town with Akari Dezart of all people, there'd be hell to pay.

"The things I do for good karma," he mumbled under his breath before reversing out of the parking space. "Where are we headed?"

"Fifty-third and Kenwood. And you're going to have to do much more than pick up the occasional stray to offset your karmic debt." That was the thing about Akari. No matter how spent, irate, or inebriated he'd get, he'd never dull. It was positively infuriating.

"You could try to sound appreciative."

"I told you to leave me alone. You're the one who so desperately wanted to take me home."

"You make it sound as if I'm trying to seduce you."

Akari's glassy irises took on a keener edge as he regarded Hirato thoughtfully. "Are you?"

He choked out a sarcastic bark, keeping his own eyes riveted to the road. "Did you _see_ the option I had tonight? Trade her for you? Not a chance."

"Good. Because I don't waste my time with narcissistic jackasses." The blond seemed mesmerized by the stream of closed shops flitting by. It was fortunate that his distractedness made him oblivious to the minute tightening of his companion's lips.

"…anymore." _Fuck. _Why did he say that? He hadn't meant to say that. He was never so loose-lipped; it was a career-ending disadvantage. Yet something about the man at his side managed to burrow under his skin like nothing else could. Akari made him fallible, entirely too human. He made him feel _guilty_, and remorse was not an emotion Hirato had intention of experiencing for any length of time.

"You used to be different."

It was the way the DA articulated the words—like he was truly, genuinely sorry the brunet had risen to heights that most lawyers could only dream of. The very insinuation caused his fingers twitch in anger. _How dare you judge me, you self-righteous sonofabitch? _Nevertheless, his voice retained its pleasantness while he searched for a way to cut as expertly as he'd just been. "I used to be naïve."

"You mean you used to be like me." A light brow quirked inquisitively.

"Yes. I used to be like you... at least until I realized that justice isn't as blind as we'd been taught, and that right and wrong are societal constructs invented for the comfort of children. So I grew up."

Akari cleared his throat awkwardly. Hirato's mouth curved. _I win again. _The rest of the drive was spent in quietude. It was delightful at first, knowing he'd silenced the famously acerbic DA. Then uncomfortable tension arose between them. He tossed periodic glances at his passenger, but Akari demonstrated no signs of being affected by their proximity. He simply stared ahead in contemplation, chin cupped in his palm, a few fingers curled against his lips as though he was restraining himself from speaking. They remained like that for half an hour. Finally, Hirato pulled alongside the blond's apartment building. Akari muttered his thanks and opened the door, only to be stopped short by the feel of long fingers curling around his wrist.

"You know you'd have won today if it weren't for Chicago PD's royal screw-up, right? It was yours to take." If anyone questioned why he felt compelled to reveal that tidbit of information, he'd have been hard pressed to answer. What was truly staggering, though, was what followed: "You _should_ have won."

Akari had been accomodatingly placid until then, but on the heels of that assertion he jerked himself loose. "This is why I want nothing to do with you. You think this is about winning or losing, that it's about _you_. In the meantime, another murderer is walking the streets." He pinched the bridge of his nose in a strange combination of exhaustion and disappointment. Hirato remembered that expression well; he'd been on its receiving end so frequently.

"An alleged murderer," he corrected. "Now an exonerated one."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Akari said defeatedly. "I'm glad you can sleep at night." With that, he spun round and ambled unsteadily up the steps without a backwards glance. The swift dismissal caused Hirato's heart to twist in an unfamiliar manner, unearthing memories and sentiments that he'd choked off years ago. Instead of interrogating these resurgent sensations, however, he concluded that he was unusually tired and needed rest. The drive back to his Near North Side condo was occupied by thoughts of downy comfort and luxurious bedding.

Even so, he didn't sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

The first two chapters had been planned. I figured I'd give you something to work with if I'm asking for your opinion. I've not decided how this story will go (although I have some sense of the possible narrative turns). So, it's not too late to tell me to work on something else.

Content warnings include Gareki's filthy mouth. This chapter needs another edit, but I wanted to get it up for review so I could see if it was worth smoothing out at all.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you last night?" Tsukitachi asked, poking his annoyingly chipper face into Hirato's office. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"Don't tell me Eva roughed you up," the redhead continued, completely disregarding any conventions of decorum or discretion.

Hirato could only sigh. He'd rather not have this conversation right now…or ever, but trying to get his friend to abandon office gossip was tantamount to turning water into wine. "Nothing happened, actually."

"Waaaaaaaaaait," Tsukitachi slinked forward and closed the door. "You're telling me you turned her down? What in Christ's name is wrong with you?" He slammed his palms on the desk and loomed threateningly over the seated man. Clearly, declining Eva's invitation was a deeply personal matter.

"I didn't turn her down." Hirato rubbed his temples in frustration. "Something came up." _A gorgeous blond with hypnotic eyes and an exceedingly shitty attitude. _In hopes of tabling the discussion, he offered his associate a conciliatory shrug. "Believe me; she's not disappointed in the least."

"Of course _she_ isn't. Shouldn't you be?"

"Oh, I am," he lied smoothly. "It's a missed opportunity. Nothing to be done, unfortunately." His tone carried a finality that brooked no resistance, not even from his closest friend.

"You prize idiot." Having been deprived of his daily quota of scandal, the scarlet-haired man spun around and made for the exit. Halfway there, he paused mid-step and glanced over his shoulder, golden stare narrowed in appraisal. "Hey, Hirato?"

"Hmm?" the brunet's attention had already been diverted to his computer screen.

"Akari Dezart," Tsukitachi spoke in a plastic, matter-of-fact way insinuating much more than idle curiosity. "You two went to law school together, right?"

It took every ounce of equanimity he possessed to mold his features into a mask of perfect nonchalance. "Yes. What of it?"

"Just wondering. He threw some pretty nasty looks at you last night. It's unusual for classmates to be so antagonistic, even when they're on opposite sides of the courtroom." It was remarkable how most of their coworkers didn't realize exactly how observant Tsukitachi was. Hirato wondered idly just how much of his connection to the Assistant DA his colleague had intuited. _This could get messy if he keeps digging._

He forced a laugh, hoping it sounded sufficiently unperturbed. "Akari never liked me." _It was so much more than 'like,' after all. _

"Can't say I blame him. Who does?"

The telephone trilled just then, a very familiar number lighting up the screen. Life's serendipitous conveniences were truly a thing of beauty; thanks to his brother, he could extricate himself from Tsukitachi without incurring further suspicion. "I have to get this," he said hurriedly, waving the other man off. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, Hirato?" Gareki's livid grumble came through the handset before he had opportunity to offer greeting. The anger in the other's voice pushed all thoughts of disagreeable blonds firmly out of mind. He mentally enumerated all the things he'd recently done to incur his sibling's wrath, but nothing notable emerged from the nebulous mass of petty provocations and unwarranted teasing.

"Do you mean that ontologically or epistemologically?" he chirped, relishing the sound of labored breathing on the other end. His baby brother was ever so fun to vex. Every chance to do so was a boon from the gods.

"Fuck you."

"Goodness. I'm not opposed to expletives on principle, but you really ought to vary your vocabulary."

"Shut the fuck up."

"See my point? So unimaginative," he tittered, lilting cadence imbued with mirth. "What are you on about this time?"

"I got my acceptance letter to Yale Law this morning." Gareki delivered the news with the gravity of a death sentence.

"Congratulations! Tokitatsu will be so proud when I tell him." This latest turn of events was without a doubt the brightest spot in his week, and it had been a stellar week. Gareki possessed a razor sharp intellect and perceptive faculties to match. Being professionalized amongst those of his caliber would set him up for the type of success that characterized the family. As a result, Hirato felt not one whit of remorse for ensuring his acceptance via a number of gifts, both monetary and those of a more questionable nature.

Gareki, however, was unimpressed (either with himself or Hirato, or both). "What did you do to get me in?"

He'd covered all his tracks, he was sure. There was no tangible evidence of his manipulations, meaning the accusation was likely based on guesswork alone. Concluding thus, Hirato relaxed in his chair, crossing lithe legs atop the desk while watching grey skies darken through the bay windows."Why would you ask such a thing? You got in on your own merit."

"Stop lying," his conversant barked. "I never applied to Yale Law. I said I did to get you off my back."

_Shit. _The attorney pinched the bridge of his nose. _Might as well try for honestly, _he conceded wearily. "Tokitatsu and I want the best for you. We're responsible for your happiness." Gareki's welfare was the only issue about which Hirato was unabashedly earnest. Ever since their parents died, the two elders felt increasingly accountable for their charge. Securing the boy's future was part of his duty, he figured. Like any other obligation, he aimed to fulfill it expertly and efficiently.

"If either of you gave a shit about my happiness, you'd stop meddling. I don't want Yale Law, or Harvard either, so tell Tokitatsu to screw himself. I don't want a stupidly expensive car, or a corner office, or a different lover every night, or whatever it is that gets you two off. Maybe you think that's the pinnacle of existence, but you look pretty fucking pathetic to me."

"You're being—"

"Look, I've had enough. Leave me alone." A sharp click reinforced the point. Having replaced the receiver, he caught sight of a jittery, insecure blond making a wreck of the front office. Members of the secretarial staff gaped as the young man bumped into a number of paralegals' cubicles, sending sheaves of paper spilling to the floor. It looked like a miniature hurricane was moving across the room, causing isolated incidents of havoc to erupt at intermittent intervals. Through his glass doors, Hirato watched in mild amusement as the lanky youth grew exponentially embarrassed.

After apologizing profusely and ensuring that every stray paper clip and pencil had been returned to its proper place, the boy marched towards the corner office and knocked reservedly even though Hirato had already motioned for him to enter. Once inside, he stood stiffly before the desk, shifting in discomfort and staring at his feet like a culpable child. "Um… m-m-my supervisor sent me here."

"And you are?" A dark brow arched, scarcely concealing the older man's enjoyment. He loved to unsettle people, and this skittish creature seemed destined for victimhood.

"Yogi. I work with the DA's Office." One of Akari's subordinates, then. That certainly explained a lot. The strawberry blond was known by the whole Illinois Bar Association for being unparalleled in his asperity.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Hirato gestured graciously to a leather armchair.

"No thanks…I'm just here to pick up Akari's papers. I'll be leaving immediately." Wide, entreating lavender orbs met his, wordlessly begging him to comply with the request.

Hirato smirked. So the Assistant DA had finally noticed that his briefcase was in his archenemy's car, did he? Wonderful. Regrettably, said archenemy had no intention of relinquishing it so cheaply. No, Akari would have to make remuneration. His grin lengthened, causing Yogi to shiver slightly.

He canted his head and regarded his visitor. "Let me ask you something."

"Y-y-yes?" Yogi looked quite like he was staring down an executioner. Apparently, he'd been given very strict instructions to complete his mission. It was impressive, really, how a paragon like Akari could inspire such fear. Maybe Hirato should regale this underling with tales of the DA's gentler proclivities?

"What do you suppose my associates would think if they saw me giving you a briefcase, hmm?"

"I don't know, sir." Yogi stared blankly at the gathering storm, appearing for all the world like he wanted to disappear on the spot.

_Akari sent a lamb into the lions' den. How unlike him. _A sudden snicker resulted at the corollary deduction, startling his companion. _He's determined to avoid me. _"What a shame. Here I thought the Assistant DA only worked with the best."

To Yogi's credit, he accepted the unarticulated challenge, comporting himself as authoritatively as possible and looking directly at Hirato. A silvery gleam sparkled briefly in lilac irises, lending him an edge of menace. _Ah, now I see why he hired you_. "They'd think you were betraying them."

"Good. Very good. So you'll understand why I can't give you what you want, right?" He stood and sauntered forth, eventually sliding an arm around the blond's shoulders in a show of false congeniality.

"Akari told me not to come back without it."

"I'm sure he did," the brunet agreed. "He's very protective of his work. You needn't worry. I'll see to it myself." With that, Hirato unceremoniously nudged Yogi out of his office. Returning to his chair, he propped up his feet and waited in delicious anticipation for the phone to ring.

* * *

"What do you mean, _he'll_ see to it?" Akari was a hair's breadth from firing his bafflingly gullible deputy. "Have you any idea what he's capable of? What if he reads through the case notes and anticipates our strategy?"

Yogi shuffled his feet and raised his hands in defense. "H-he wouldn't listen! Besides, we share our evidence with the defense, don't we?" Yogi offered by way of (ineffectual) explanation.

"We do, you incompetent fool. _After we go to trial_!" The yell startled the whole office. Akari pinched the bridge of his nose and took several calming breaths. Yogi wasn't truly inadequate. It was _him_; he was discontented and hungover. Having to deal with Hirato personally did nothing to ameliorate his ire. The day had gone from terrible to goddamn unsalvageable and it wasn't even noon. Determining to get it over with, he dismissed Yogi and flung himself behind his desk, fingers mashing keys with unnecessary vehemence as he dialed the number to Chicago's most successful law firm.

"Bizante and Associates, how may I direct your call?" The receptionist's voice was much too effervescent, like she was unaware that she'd been relegated to the seventh circle of Hell.

"Give me Hirato."

"I'm sorry, he's busy at the moment. May I take a message?"

_Busy doing what? Dining on the souls of innocents? _"No. You may inform him that Assistant DA Dezart is on the phone. You'll find that he'll unencumber himself immediately."

She hesitated momentarily and then decided negotiating with a belligerent District Attorney was above her pay grade. "Yes, sir."

He waited for the line to connect. When it did, the sing-song baritone on the other end set his teeth on edge. "How nice of you to call and thank me. I hadn't dreamed of such an outright show of appreciation."

"Drop it, will you? I want my briefcase. When can I pick it up?" A nascent migraine was forming just behind his eyes. He could feel it sharpen with each syllable the other man uttered.

"You can't. Having the Assistant DA in my office would be awfully inconvenient."

_Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit. _In all honesty, he couldn't fault Hirato. He'd not want that slimy bastard anywhere near the DA's Office either. He capitulated, figuring he'd save time by saving an argument. "Fine. Where?"

"9PM. Bar Louie's on South Shore." Unexpectedly, Hirato's voice softened, causing Akari's breath to catch. "You remember the place, right?"

"I live a few blocks away. Of course I remember." Before he hung up, he recalled the urgency of his present plight. "If I find that you've rifled through my things, I'll—"

"How little you must think of me. Rest assured I would never stoop that low." The blond might have imagined it, but he swore a trace of sadness surfaced in the other's tenor. "I'll see you tonight."

* * *

Hirato arrived fifteen minutes early. Such was the advantage of driving everywhere. He selected a private booth in a darkened corner of the restaurant. Low incandescent lighting coupled with dark walls and decor suffused the place with a secretive air. _How apropos, _he thought wryly as denizens of the Southside shouted profanities at the televised basketball game near the bar. Admitting it to his high-powered uptown associates was out of the question, but he often missed this side of town. He missed this bar. It had been a favorite spot for celebration when he or Akari had cleared another law school hurdle. On graduation day, he'd practically carried the drunken future Assistant DA back to their shoebox-sized apartment. An unseasonably chilly downpour intercepted them about three blocks from home, and by the time they arrived, Akari was not only intoxicated, but soaked through and trembling. It didn't take much effort to divest him of his clothes. They'd embraced each other with fierce desperation that night, greedy hands and lips seeking both pleasure and warmth while the skies raged outside.

Yes, Chicago's Southside was a veritable graveyard of skeletons best left buried.

"One sake martini." A perky brunette placed the drink before him, toothy smile dripping with pretend politesse. He raised an imaginary glass to her ability to dissemble. Service workers were expert at feigned deference. He ought to take notes. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you. I'm waiting for someone."

"Well, I hope she doesn't keep you waiting for long," the server—Nicole—simpered as she walked away, hips swaying entirely too sensuously to be incidental.

Akari arrived squarely on time, ruby eyes scanning the room before making a beeline for the corner booth. "So uncharacteristically inconspicuous. One might think you're ashamed of being seen on the Southside."

"That, or I'd not want to stain your immaculate reputation by having anyone catch you consorting with the devil." Hirato exhaled heavily and shook his head. "I thought we might be civil, but I see my optimism was misplaced."

Akari made to argue but relented, altogether too worn thin to put up much of a fight. "You're not the devil," he requited, clearly contrite for his earlier quip.

"I must own something of the demonic when a saint like you can't stand to look at me." _Goddamnit. _Another unintended self-betrayal. He ought to take a page from his companion's book and maintain as much distance as possible. Any more one-on-one meetings and he'd be liable to surrender all the weapons to his own undoing. _Then__ why are you here? _inquired the creeping voice he generally banished to the recesses of his consciousness. Why indeed. One look at the other man's angular features and striking eyes under the ambient light was all the justification he required. Well, that and his bouts of fitful sleep. Last night's encounter with Akari bothered him for reasons he dared not investigate. Dredging up old memories was returning the favor. He'd have his vengeance, even if it exacerbated his own unease.

"I'm no saint." Akari's reply was sorrowful, pained almost. "And you do yourself a disservice. I've always liked looking at you."

"Oh, are you feeling wistful?" he teased.

"More like grateful. You spared me a lot of trouble today... and last night."

"Quite right, my dear DA," Hirato agreed in a sanguine tone thoroughly at odds with the whirlwind of emotions affecting his interlocutor. "But your thanks is unnecessary. I'll collect my due one day," he added. "In the meantime, where are my manners? Would you like a drink?"

"Absolutely not." Both laughed, cerise meeting indigo before Akari averted his gaze.

"You were spectacularly wasted last night. I don't think I've seen you so far gone since you passed the bar." The brunet's lips twitched at the reminiscence. He quickly schooled himself into neutrality. The past was so counfoundingly recalcitrant; it refused to stay in its designated place (meaning not visibly written on his face). "Why were you in the Loop anyway?"

"For the view," Akari confessed. "I wanted to see if it was worth what I gave up, if the offers I threw away were worth my integrity…" he trailed off, blind to the insult he'd just levied at Hirato.

"Were they?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Even on the days I fail."

There it was—the guilt, the biting, stinging regret he felt every time he was confronted with his own shortcomings. Akari always managed to throw them into sharp relief. He'd have chalked it up to a deep-seated desire to destroy him, but the blond's cruelty wasn't the subtle kind. If anything, he was probably oblivious to the damage he'd wrought. _Still, __ignorance is no excuse. We learned that first year. _The defense attorney's lips tightened involuntarily as he endeavored to strike back. "Was it _all_ worth it?"

"Are you asking me if it was worth you?"

Hirato had not missed an iota of that trademark directness. He upped the ante, knowing how Akari longed to consign their history to oblivion. Why travel such lengths to avoid interaction if not to outrun memories? "Yes, I suppose I am." _Let's see how _you_ like being reminded of how we used to be__._

The DA took deep breath before answering. "Yes. Saving my conscience was worth losing you." The words were underscored by anguish. Unmitigated, undiminished anguish. Akari might have meant them, but he'd never forgive himself for articulating them. Hirato could _feel_ attrition clouding their corner of the bar. Silence settled between them, thick like fog, and just as obscuring. "It was never an easy choice," the blond whispered at last.

"No need to sound so repentant," Hirato replied in what he hoped was a winsome fashion. Akari's revelation wasn't novel; he'd expected it. But he'd be damned if it didn't steal his breath nonetheless. _That's his_ _sin; he cloaks his viciousness in the guise of virtue...and then has the audacity to be sorry for it_. "It would have been disastrous if you'd stayed. It's like you said last night. We're different now." He smirked for good measure.

"Indeed we are." Akari inclined his head in gratitude for the reprieve. "Well, I'm sure Beelzebub is lonely, so I don't want to keep you."

_No, I expect you wouldn't, _Hirato thought savagely, lips now curved in a soft smile. He slid the briefcase across the table. "Here you go. Everything present and accounted for."

"Thank you," Akari stood to leave. "Be careful, okay? If you're picked up for DUI, I won't go easy on you."

"I'd never ask you to compromise your principles." The DA started at that, and Hirato detected hurt dimming opaline orbs. He reveled inwardly at the small victory and watched Akari walk away—_How many times is that now?_ He wouldn't meet the other man in close quarters again. The blond would never assent to another such rendezvous, not when both of them were unfailingly accurate on where to strike, what to cut, how to hurt. What Hirato couldn't figure out was why a long-familiar absence suddenly burned so intensely.

_Maybe it's better like this. No, not maybe. It's most definitely better. _ Considering that spending any length of time with his employers' enemy would likely result in demotion or termination, he resolved to leave the other man to his own devices.

* * *

Akari stood in the hallway, dread pooling in his stomach. His apartment door was ajar. Surely, he'd locked it this morning. Or had he? His focus had been waning of late. He weighed the options and decided against calling the police. By the time they arrived, he'd have no use for them, likely because he'd have dispatched the intruder or because he'd been dispatched himself. In either case, their involvement would waste public resources. Gingerly placing his briefcase on the ground, he stepped out of his shoes and opened the door with exceeding carefulness.

The sight of his unanticipated houseguest brought relief, followed swiftly by irritation. "Gareki? What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you too Akari," the black-haired man deadpanned in a manner uncannily reminiscent of his brother.

He'd always been fond of Hirato's younger, saner sibling. But this ill-advised late-night ambush made him wonder if his favorable assessment had been tendered too soon. "How'd you find me? I'm unlisted."

"I have my methods."

_Your methods. Of course. _ Akari's headache returned with surprising vigor; he needed aspirin. And sleep. More aspirin than sleep, probably. "Fine, whatever. How did you get in?"

"I broke in," Garkei explained as though remarking on the weather.

"You broke into an Assistant DA's home? I can have you arrested." Akari carried his things inside and fell into the sofa opposite his visitor.

"You can, but you won't."

_What an insolent little brat. _Gareki was right naturally, but Akari's good opinion had obviously been immature. It was in need of immediate revision. "So why are you here? I'm assuming it's urgent since you've broken the law to accost me."

"I want to work at the DA's Office."

_That_ he'd not expected, and to his great disadvantage, he was completely unprepared. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said after some deliberation.

"Why not? Because both of my brothers are overbearing fucks who'll make our lives hell?"

Akari almost smiled at the frankness. Maybe Gareki _was_ worthy of his esteem. "Well, yes. More importantly, you're an undergrad with no real training."

"Oh, come on. I'm a quick study. You know I'm just as intelligent as Hirato."

"Your standards leave much to be desired. As does your language." Akari stood, preparing to see him out.

"I'll prove it. I'll make coffee, copies, anything you want." In their several years of acquaintance, he'd never seen Gareki plead. In fact, he was much like his obnoxious brother on that score. That he'd resort to begging now was jarring, to say the least.

"Why would you want that when either of your siblings would be happy to take you on? They may be overbearing fucks as you so delicately put it, but they're good at what they do and well-established."

"Because I want to matter," Gareki replied softly. "I want what I do to matter."

Akari scrubbed his hands through his hair and caved, knowing that he'd be volleying hours of phone calls from both Hirato and Tokitatsu tomorrow. They'd class these new arrangements as a deliberate poaching of talent, and no amount of protesting would convince otherwise. Threats and speculation would run wild. "Fine. Show up at 8AM. Sharp. Ask for Yogi. He'll train you." He'd doubtless wake up hating himself, but that wouldn't be very different from the norm, he guessed.

"Thanks Akari," he beamed. They'd no doubt take offense at the comparison, but Gareki and Hirato shared the same smile. When given in earnest, it was positively breathtaking.

"Don't thank me yet. I'll get you in. The rest is up to you. If you want a job with mobility, you'll need to go to law school."

"I won't let you down, I promise." As he walked out, Gareki turned back looked at Akari solemnly, "I'm not like Hirato."

_No, you're not. So what's worse, that I'd rather you were, or that I want him as he is? _He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. _So much for integrity._


	3. Chapter 3

It's my birthday (tomorrow). I gifted myself a whole day of uninterrupted writing. It's been so wonderful.

Okay, and we're off. All it takes is a few people willing to read, and I'm willing to write. I've done some plotting, and I think this is going to be a pretty long one. So settle in, will you? And prepare yourself for drama. And romance.

To my guest reviewer who wants fanservice: I don't like to write explicit sex. I do it, of course, but it makes me squicky. Unfortunately for me (but fortunately for you), this particular narrative will require it, and it will require the sort of sex that truly affects plot. In short, Hirato will blow. Akari's. mind. It'll be awhile, but there'll be plenty of flashbacks and sexual tension in the meantime.

To everyone else: If things are not progressing to your liking or if you have concerns, drop me a line, will you?

Finally, I know nothing about lawyers. Suspension of disbelief is par for the course in this story.

* * *

Akari rarely slept. On the rare occasions he managed it, he was oblivious to ambient disturbances. When he and Hirato were students, they'd leave their windows open in summertime, hoping to coax a breeze into the stifling, decidedly not air-conditioned apartment. Even the city's late-night sirens and car alarms couldn't disturb the blond. Only when his bedmate rose would he stir, cracking a bleary eye open to trace the brunet's movements. Once Hirato returned to his side, however, he'd fall into a deep slumber within seconds. It was like he'd exhausted himself after so many successive restless nights that his body's circadian rhythm over-compensated when the opportunity availed itself.

Having fallen asleep on the couch last night, he neither registered the early morning light filling his living room nor the stampede of neighbors' feet as they marched off to work. What finally woke him was the vibration of the cell phone still in his jacket pocket. He jerked awake, blinking for several minutes before gathering his wits. A small flare of panic rose in his chest as he realized he was late for work. _Well, I can work late, _he conciliated. _Given that my day's about to be hijacked by the most unbearable pair of smarmy bastards I've ever met, I'll _have_ to work late._

"Hello?" he answered, deep rumble imbued with drowsiness.

"Goodness counselor, it's a bit late for you to be asleep, isn't it?" Tokitatsu's lilting voice was pleasant on most occasions. Right now, it grated on his ears like braking L trains. _He couldn't wait until after I had some coffee? _

Akari took a long inhale, rubbing his temples and noting that his headache hadn't abated at all. "It's only 8 here." He sat up. "I'd ask to what I owe the pleasure, but I've a pretty shrewd idea."

The other man only laughed. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That I could use another sharp, talented individual in my employ. There aren't too many of those lining up to work at the DA's Office." In his defense, it was partially true.

Tokitatsu hummed in mock contemplation. "You're an awful liar. Tell me what Gareki did to secure your assent. You'd never voluntarily place yourself within my brother's reach."

Akari didn't need to ask which brother; it was no secret to all three that he'd prefer to maintain as much distance from Hirato as possible, particularly since he often had to deal with the man professionally. As such, his willingness to ally with Gareki _was_ rather suspect. He therefore relented. No point arguing with a lawyer, after all. It was shameful to cave without putting up much of a fight, but he needed to hoard his energy for what would no doubt be an arduous day. "He said he wanted to matter."

"I see," Tokitatsu said thoughtfully. "He thinks Hirato and I don't matter."

"I don't think that's true," the younger man corrected. "Living in your shadows can't be easy. It breeds resentment. He'll grow out of it, I'm sure." A pause. "…and I imagine he finds the two of you domineering."

"As if you're any less a tyrant."

"Well, he's not acquainted with my more authoritarian proclivities. When he knew me, I was—" he stopped short, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"—different," the voice on the other end of the line supplied. "I liked you better back then."

"Me too."

That prompted another round of chuckles from his interlocutor. Tokitatsu was good-natured, affable, more tame in his mischievousness than his irredeemable lout of a younger brother. Thus, it was hardly a surprise he wasn't completely put out over Gareki's latest in a series of ill-informed decisions. "I'm not angry, you know that right?"

Akari scoffed. "And why should you be? I did what any reasonable employer would have done."

"This is why I'm not levying blame. Consider this call a friendly head's up. Just be aware that Hirato will take all of this very personally."

"He can go to hell," the blond huffed in frustration.

Tokitatsu pointedly cleared his throat, intimating quite clearly that as equable as he was, even he had limits. Obviously, Hirato wasn't the only one whose devotion to family ran deep. "I think he's _been_ in hell, so don't unload your verbal arsenal on him, okay? Gareki is one of perhaps two or three things that he cares deeply for. Misguided as it was, I think trying to buy the boy's admission at Yale was his way of demonstrating concern."

Akari nearly choked. Hirato was a shameless, scheming bastard, true, but that sounded a stretch, even for the master manipulator. "He did _what_?"

"Gareki didn't tell you?" The older man inquired. "I thought you knew."

"That idiot." He couldn't help it; the brunet's occasional propensity for foolishness always elicited a half-endearing groan.

"Indeed."

"No wonder Gareki wants nothing to do with him." The pieces clicked into place neatly.

"Indeed."

And then it dawned on the DA: "He's going to be insufferable, isn't he?"

"Indeed." Tokitatsu's playful smile was evident in his tenor.

Akari sighed heavily and scrubbed his free hand through his hair. "Well, I'd better get to the office then. My day will likely be one for the record books."

Another light chuckle. "Probably." A breath's length passed between them. "Akari?"

"Hmm?" He was already preoccupied with enumerating his seemingly innumerable tasks.

"You're the other."

Tokitatsu's vagueness captured his attention. "The other what?"

"The other thing he cared for."

He could only stammer over his goodbye afterward.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to accept Hirato's feelings. The other man was never given to flouting affection, true, but it was patently evident in the way he gazed, or touched, or kissed. Hirato used to betray himself in the everyday minutiae of their lives. Once upon a time. No, Akari's problem was that the brunet had been devoid of proper reverence for _his_ feelings. To love is easy, after all. It's an automatic response to the stimulus of another's existence. To _be_ loved—well, that required a certain responsibility towards the one who loved you. And as brilliant as he was, Akari's erstwhile beloved never quite discerned that nuance.

Feeling altogether too worn thin to face the day (before 9AM, no less), the Assistant DA ambled towards his bathroom, looking forward to a hot shower and imminent caffeination. He'd thank the heavens for coffee shops and espresso machines if he believed in such nonsense as God.

Thirty minutes later, he reconsidered his assessment while standing in line mere minutes from a double Americano. Yes, God existed. And He was determined to destroy the city's prosecutor. Akari glanced wearily at his cellphone screen and politely stepped aside, smothering the burning urge to smash the phone against the wall. _I'm definitely going to fire him this time. _"This had better be urgent."

"U-u-um, Akari?" Yogi generally sounded on the verge of tears, but today his tone was shakier than typical. Apparenly, Gareki was proving to be quite the handful. _No surprise there. _

"What is it Yogi?"

His deputy gave a nervous titter. Akari could picture him shifting from foot to foot while trying to articulate his increasingly obscure point. "You should probably get here as soon as possible."

He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. "What has Gareki done?"

Hirato's smooth baritone came over the phone then, causing his fingers to grip the handset so tightly it creaked. "Funny. I was wondering the same thing."

"What are you doing there?"

"I'm here to see my brother. Although I must say that I'm very disappointed. With all your talk of integrity, you might have informed me regarding Gareki's new place of employment last night_,_" he chirped happily.

Akari was no fool. He knew the precise contours of that voice and the myriad threats it concealed. "I'd have mentioned it had I known at the time."

"I want him back, Akari." A warning undergirded each perfectly enunciated syllable.

"I haven't kidnapped him, Hirato."

The brunet signed off, leaving an irate blond to stalk towards the nearest bus stop. _Yogi is going to do nothing but copy briefs for the next two weeks, _he thought savagely, cognizant that punishing his subordinate was awfully unfair. This was yet another reason he loathed his ex-lover; Hirato shredded his rationality.

* * *

An hour later, Chicago's most talented but not-even-marginally-caffeinated Assistant District Attorney stood amongst two difficult brunets, one terribly jittery blond, and an entire office of perplexed and curious staff. _This has all the makings of a terrible legal drama, _he mused while Gareki's heaving inhales steadied and Hirato's infuriating smirk reappeared on pale lips.

"I want to know what, precisely, is going on here," Akari intoned, words measured yet icy. "Immediately."

Yogi broke the silence. "Um, well, you see, Gareki came in… and then I… like you asked… and then this—" he gestured to Hirato with his hands, "reprobate—"

Said reprobate's supremely delighted laughter cut in. "Did Akari teach you that? Such a big word for little boy."

Akari stepped up, fully intending to castigate Hirato for speaking to his employee in so disrespectful a manner, but it turned out that he needn't have bothered. Gareki strode forward, spine erect as he sized up the taller man. Midnight blue eyes narrowed in loathing. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare come in here and act all high and mighty after what you've done."

"You mean trying to secure your future? Is that a crime now?" the elder asked, thoroughly unconcerned by the other's aggressive affect. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

"My future is _my_ prerogative."

"So many big words at the DA's Office this morning." Predatory violets leveled on Akari. "You must be positively infectious," Hirato purred, concomitantly sending a shiver down his target's spine and wrath rushing through his veins.

The Assistant DA in question could only pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Leave. Or I'll have security escort you."

"I'll leave, but I want to have a little chat with _baby_ _brother_ first." With that, he took a resistant, hissing Gareki by the arm and marched him towards the door.

Akari reached out to stop them, but he was outpaced by his own subordinate. An ostensibly furious one too, who grabbed Hirato by the shoulder and spun him around with enough force to jar loose his captive. "You leave him alone, you jerk!" Yogi very rarely grew violent or demanding. When he did, the effect was absolutely unsettling. Hirato blinked a few times in awe before regaining himself.

What happened thereafter was an accident. From his privileged position, Akari quite clearly recognized as much, but he also knew Gareki would not arrive at the same conclusion. In attempting to move towards his sibling, Hirato knocked the tremulous blond into the wall. A combination of his speed and the young lawyer's unsteadiness precipitated the spill.

By way of apology, Hirato's eyes softened as he leaned down to assist his unintended victim. "Yogi, are you o—" And that's when Gareki's fist made contact with his jaw.

A tense hush fell over the office, and not for the first time, Akari wondered when the situation had slipped from his control. He hauled the new hire away from his archenemy. "Gareki, enough!" he growled, livid that his place of work had become a circus. Surprisingly, the brunet did not essay another go at his brother. He merely seethed from a distance, breaths heavy and dragging, pupils narrowed hawk-like in rage. "As for you," he looked to Hirato. "We need to talk. My office. Now."

"Giving orders to me, are you? Why should I comply?"

"Now!" The resultant yell startled everyone present. Somewhere, a legal aide sent a glass crashing to the floor. All four men ignored it.

Hirato grinned impishly and held up his hands in feigned defensiveness. "Since you asked so nicely…" He whirled around and walked towards the floor's rear office suite, sauntering cheerfully between the lines of cubicles occupied by staggered paralegals.

Akari waited until the suite door closed before relinquishing his hold on Gareki. "Yogi, take him and… go do something productive."

The young aide nodded. Akari scrubbed his face tiredly before following after Hirato. _I need a vacation. _A slight tug at his sleeve stopped him in his tracks. _A permanent one. _"What now?" he barked, instantly remorseful for the rudeness. Yogi wasn't to blame for any of this, after all.

"Um, y-y-you're not going to fire G-Gareki are you? He was only trying to help me."

_Strange, that—defending someone you've just met. And Gareki isn't the chivalrous type. _Akari shook his head resignedly. "Of course not. I've been waiting for someone take a swing at that bastard for years." He offered a barely-there reassuring nod, prompting Yogi to motion for an embrace. The younger man threw his arms open and took a confident step towards his supervisor, only to be met with Akari's stalling hand in his face.

Not marginally disappointed by the standoffishness (he'd become long inured to it), Yogi dropped his arms and beamed before rushing out the door, a much-relieved brunet in his tow.

* * *

Hirato was sitting in _his_ chair, lithe legs crossed atop _his _workspace when Akari entered the office. That said, the audacious rake did muster the decency to lower the offending appendages, leaving Akari little choice but to lean against the portion of desk that had lately been occupied by his feet. Every other flat surface was covered by mile-high sheaves of files. He regetted that he'd not organized those stacks of paperwork; being in such proximity to his former paramour was distressing. He thought about opening the blinds or rearranging some files to give himself something to do, but that would only highlight his nervousness.

"What was the point of that little show?" he inquired softly, too exhausted for games.

"I don't want Gareki working for you. Haven't I made that plain?"

"Right," Akari responded tersely. "Heaven forbid he doesn't have a corner office in the Loop."

"That's not it." Hirato's expression morphed into something resembling sincerity. Chary fingertips gingerly pressed along his cheek. A tiny laceration cut across fine skin, likely from Gareki's ring. Akari found himself wanting to treat it with antiseptic and a kiss. He forced the image from his psyche, hating himself for considering it at all. He couldn't possibly long for a man who'd jilted him so savagely. "I want him to go to law school. He can do volunteer work for all I care, but he needs proper training. Future employers will not be as accomodating as you, not even non-profits."

Akari would be lying if he said he wasn't flabbergasted by the revelation. So, Hirato wasn't a _completely_ superficial, status-obsessed degenerate. "So in service of that end, you bought his way into Yale?" He was a _moderately_ superficial, status-obsessed degenerate.

"That wasn't one of my better ideas," he conceded mildly. "Actually, I never thought he'd find out."

"You prize idiot. He'd have been admitted on his own merit, but you stole that opportunity." Akari chided, shaking his head. "You're just teeming with dreadful ideas of late, aren't you?"

"If you mean coming here, I didn't expect to be assaulted in front of the mighty Akari Dezart, defender of justice." It was sarcastic and mocking, yes, but there was a hint of congeniality there too. "I suppose you're less efficacious without your cape, hmm?"

Considerable discipline was required to bite back a smile. "Don't expect sympathy from me. You could have dodged."

"Yes," Hirato said casually. "It _is_ the first time he's landed a strike."

"Why take it then?"

_That_ certainly got a reaction. The brunet leaned forward and stared at his companion as if seeing him for the first time. His expression was uncommonly genuine, thoughtful even, and indicative of a trace of ardor. "I expected a man of your caliber to guess."

The world upended itself all of a sudden. Startling realization crashed down upon the Assistant DA with the severity of the punch that the other man had suffered for his sake. "He would have hit me instead," Akari whispered, shock manifest in his tone, "I was in the way." Instinctively, his fingers settled against his mouth as though he'd uttered curses of the most depraved sort. "You protected _me?_" Searching crystalline eyes scanned the seated man for any tell of deceit or duplicity. They found none.

"Is it so hard to believe?" Hirato stood and carefully slipped elegant fingers around Akari's wrist, gently pulling it away from his mouth. "Would it be so abhorrent if I…" he slowly leaned in, closing the distance between them by millimeters. Breaths mingled, sending a dozen confused impulses through the blond's body. _No. I don't desire him. I can't. Not after everything that's happened._

Akari inhaled sharply and shrank back as impossibly soft lips ghosted against his. A kiss was expected since Hirato moved in so calculated a manner, yet the contact was a jolt of electricity, causing his nerves to tingle and hum like charged current. How vividly he remembered the other's taste—smoky and rich with a touch of sweetness, similar to his favorite coffee. Intoxicating enough to crave even years later, apparently. Nevertheless, he was no longer young and naïve, and consequently, no longer susceptible to the same enticements as his former self. "If you've any integrity left in you, then you won't."

"You know better than that." Hirato only inched closer and pressed against him. "You're the principled one, right?" He rested his head against Akari's, conjuring a host of memories and sentiments that the blond assumed had long deteriorated. "I've missed you—how you feel underneath me, the way you tremble when you climax, how it excites me to hear you call my name." An expectant hand tangled in pinkish hair. "I can do things other than hurt if you let me."

_This _does_ hurt. _"Stop," Akari ground out, still feeling like he'd been caught in a fever dream.

Experience had taught him that his ex-lover could read the hesitation in a blink, the intent in every furtive glance. Hirato could probably hear the thready drumming of his heart at this range. Maybe that's why he didn't step back promptly. He lingered, doubtless aware of what his touch was doing to Akari. "Say you don't want to and I'll go."

It took every ounce of fortitude the DA possessed. "I don't want you."

Eventually, the brunet withdrew. Unease fell between them, stretching minutes into hours. In the interim, Akari found himself casting his gaze anywhere but at his aggressor. Seeing the other man and realizing that those clever hands and velvet lips could be traversing his skin with but a word was enough to undo his composure. He failed at banishing visions of Hirato's back hitting the desk, sending tidy stacks of paper scattering to the floor. He could sense exploring fingernails etching light patterns upon his naked skin already. It was sufficient to compel his arms across his chest so that they wouldn't wander unchecked.

Having properly basked in Akari's mute agitation, Hirato's lips curled like he'd just laid bare the world's most tantalizing secrets. This shift in his bearing cooled the room perceptibly and drew his mark's undivided attention. "Thank you," he muttered dangerously.

"For what?" Akari asked in distraction, mind still spinning in attempt to make sense of this newest turn of events.

"For reminding me how inept a liar you are." His words dripped poison and a rhinestone gaze grew severe, hardened. "Last night, you really had me convinced that you had no regrets with your fake conviction and self-assuredness." A malicious peal of laughter. "And I'm the dishonest one? You betrayed yourself, counselor. You _do _want me… and it kills you, doesn't it? To desire everything you hate." He took several long strides and wrapped his hand around the doorknob, tossing a final glance in Akari's direction. "How hypocritical."

"Hirato, don't—" _I didn't mean to hurt you. _Because that's what this was—the hasty distancing, the cold eyes, the menacing comportment. It was hurt disguised as animosity. And only Akari would know how to interpret it, because only he wielded the power to wound the other man.

"Oh please, don't bother with equivocations," the defense attorney interrupted, mask now perfectly in place and pretend politesse fully intact, "not for my sake anyway." He walked out.

"—go," Akari murmured to a firmly closed door. _Let me explain._ "Don't go."

But Hirato was already beyond his reach.

* * *

NB: All is not what it seems. That's all I'm saying.

It dawns on me that I should give you some "liner notes" since the city is as much a character in this story as are its denizens. Feel free to skip these, or read them at your leisure. I'll organize them by chapter.

Chapter One:

(1) The Loop is what Chicagoans call downtown. It's so named because the elevated trains (the 'El' or 'L') make a loop around the city's center. Ever see that epic train sequence in 'Spider-Man 2'? That was filmed in Chicago's Loop. As was that epic car chase in 'The Dark Knight' (below the L tracks, of course).

(2) Akari lives at "Fifty-third and Kenwood." This is on the city's Southside, in the historic Hyde Park district. Hyde Park is home to the University of Chicago and incidentally enough, it was also the former home of US President Barack Obama. It's an intellectual's haven filled with independent bookstores and coffee shops—Akari loves it there, but not for the reasons you might think.

(3) Near North Side is downtown, and teeming with luxury high-rise residences that boast dizzying views. It's trendy, modern, and right in the heart of the city. As such, it's very well-suited to Hirato. He loves it there because he can see Hyde Park from almost every room of his condo (but he'd never tell anyone that).

(4) The Law School at the University of Chicago is one of the most prestigious in the country. Both Akari and Hirato would have been amazingly talented to be admitted, much less to graduate at the top of the class. Naturally, Karneval fans are not surprised.

Chapter Two:

(1) Bar Louie's on South Shore is a real place. It's part of a chain, but the one on the Southside of Chicago makes the best martinis in the city (trust me on this one). They don't serve a sake martini, but if ever you're in town, the white grape is phenomenal. Fun fact: I once met President Obama there.

Finally, no BskiT, I'm not from Chicago. I just lived there for a few years. It's an amazing city; you should visit.


	4. Chapter 4

I promised you that all is not what it seems. For example, Hirato isn't half the jerk he pretends to be.

Also, this chapter starts the drama so I feel obligated to tell you that I don't usually write cliff-hangers, although I certainly write in a manner designed to drive plot. That being said, please bear with me if one or two slip through on this story; its plot is a bit more serpentine than what I'm used to.

Hey guys, have you read Chapter 72.5? If Hirato/Akari isn't your OTP after that, I don't know what could convince you.

To anyone and everyone who's ever read even a sentence I've placed on paper – you mean more than I could ever articulate. To those who take the time to review or PM - you're why I write at all. Thank you.

-A.

* * *

Hirato drove to his uptown condo with more aggression than was his wont. The anodyne grey of Lake Michigan sped past his window, its effect all but lost. He wasn't frustrated exactly, but he wasn't _un_affected either. Naturally, even an iota of mutability was awfully unbecoming of an emotionless bastard. The very realization further contributed to his current ill humor.

Although he'd gone to the DA's Office in hopes of prevailing upon Gareki, he knew with relative certainty he'd fail at that particular endeavor. His younger brother was the recalcitrant sort; he'd always been. Coaxing him into common sense would require nothing short of a miracle, and Hirato had depleted his share of the miraculous when he didn't take advantage of Akari's drunkenness the other night. Nevertheless, the chance at snatching his brother from the blond's squeaky clean clutches was worth an attempt. Garkei was his responsibility, after all; it wouldn't do to permit soul-selling to the opposing side, not without a fight anyway. Yet he'd be lying if he claimed that the appeal of unsettling the famously stoic prosecutor had nothing to do with the ploy. Sure, he'd promised to keep away from Akari last night, but forfeiting so convenient an opportunity was beyond even his extraordinary gift for restraint.

To his credit, everything had gone according to design. Well, apart from the conflagration of _want_ now scorching his skin. That had not been anticipated.

He'd been precise, methodical, and prepared for even the most remote outcome. The plan was simple: Arrive unexpectedly and antagonize Gareki, provoking him into recklessness, in turn prompting Akari to fire him. Gareki's fruitless present was small remuneration for a secure future, after all.

Now that he thought about it though, the fact that the younger man would actually throw a punch was rather baffling. Slap a wall, perhaps. Kick a wastebasket. Upend a pencil holder or two. Gareki might have bristled easily, but he wasn't the type to violence another. His uncharacteristic behavior was exactly what made the situation endlessly amusing. Hirato delighted in self-satisfaction, buoyancy returning to his mood.

His pleased grin melted away when he imagined Akari getting hurt. The prosecutor would have been caught unawares; he was more attentive to the imminent confrontation rather than his own person. _I shouldn't have spared him. Time and again, I've told him to look out for himself. _Truly, it would have been the most sensible course, pedagogically speaking at least. Even so, the idea of Akari suffering at all on account of something he'd devised was unacceptable. Thus, Hirato did what was requisite.

Necessity ought to have been limited by blocking his brother from injuring the other man. There'd been no obligation to aim at seduction, and frankly, the more he investigated his reasons for having essayed it, the more perplexed he grew. Moreover, something about Akari shrinking from his caress had been enough to stall his intellection and reduce him to levying insults and unfair accusations. Watching the other's incarnadine irises cloud over in anguish was no longer entertaining, evidently. In fact, it was anything but.

The voice residing in the recesses of his mind—the one he typically ignored—finally surfaced, bringing into striking clarity all that had happened in the last hour:_ You didn't protect him. Not really. What you did was the opposite. _That, Hirato supposed, was sufficient to keep at a distance from Akari. _It's the least I owe. _

If only the Akari haunting his memories were as accommodating as his corporeal counterpart.

* * *

"Wrong. Again." Akari huffed, long fingers massaging the bridge of his nose in a manner he'd perfected over the past year. Being romantically involved with Hirato was a constant exercise in patience, it seemed. "You were admitted here. How is it that you have the acumen of a single-celled organism?"

It was ironic that a man as perceptive as Akari hadn't discovered that his partner aggravated him on account of the resultant flush that bloomed across his fine skin. _Too easy_, Hirato thought mischievously. They were sprawled on the bed amongst a veritable sea of open books, eyes (supposedly) glued to their notes. Final exams would commence in the morning.

"Okay, just once more," Hirato pleaded, amethysts bright and mirthful. Akari had explained the case four times. Each further elucidation was completely unnecessary; the brunet understood perfectly when he reviewed it initially. But the prickly light-haired, crystalline-eyed law student lounging across from him made for an excruciatingly tempting instructor. He absorbed every syllable of his bedmate's authoritative tone, letting that deep rumble wash over him and set his thoughts ablaze.

Akari groaned impatiently. Hirato laughed. He then took a pillow to the face when he was found out. "You jerk," the blond grumbled. "I'm under enough pressure without your nonsense." He shook his head roughly, but Hirato could make out the barest curve of a smile dancing upon pale lips.

_So adorable. _There was nothing else for it. He crawled across the bed like a predator, agile, muscular limbs navigating the precarious stacks of books with supernatural prowess. Several were unceremoniously shoved to the floor in service of pinning Akari against the mattress.

"Oh no. We have an early morning. Don't you dare try t—mph—" He smirked into the kiss as his victim vacillated between pulling away and arching closer.

Nimble fingers gliding through strawberry-colored strands, Hirato tugged gently while nipping along a tense jaw. "How about some extra credit, professor? I promise I'll do the work." With that, an unrestrained hand moved from Akari's hair to his waistband, dipping below without the slightest reserve.

"Fuck." His paramour's refined and sophisticated vocabulary failed spectacularly in such circumstances, supplanted by uncharacteristic vulgarities and a vast array of four-lettered words. Hirato loved seeing the ever-composed so-called genius undone. He was gorgeous when being debauched… and absolutely stunning when he came. No wonder, then, that the brunet endeavored a romp at every stray chance.

"That's definitely the plan," he murmured, sucking along the base of Akari's neck. Blood rushed under his lips, intimating quite clearly that the blond was game. Still, he stopped long enough to regard his lover with utmost sincerity. "Tell me you don't want to and it ends here."

Akari's incredulous laugh was as mellifluous as Seraphim's song, at least to petitioning ears. "You bastard, asking me something of the sort after stroking me like_ that_. Like hell I want you to stop."

The saboteur hummed contentedly against heated flesh while stripping off their clothes with swift expertise. "That filthy mouth of yours—I'm going to put it to very good use…." he promised, marking a neat trail down a trim chest, each snap of teeth more vehement than the last, "…later."

"If I fail tomorrow—ah!—I'm going to fucking murder you," Akari managed through shallow inhales. "In your—damn!—sleep."

The brunet chuckled softly. "You'd have to _try_ to fail. Anyway, I'm doing you a favor." He looked up at his conquest. Mere foreplay, and Akari's fair skin had gone deep scarlet. His head was thrown back, revealing both the tight cords of his neck and the series of bruises that had lately formed along them. Hirato grinned salaciously.

"H—how is that?" Akari queried. Honestly, such lucidity was impressive given that an exploring tongue was rasping along the juncture of his thigh. Then again, he was nothing if not brilliant, so coherence while distracted was par for the course.

"Stress relief." Hirato's mouth replaced his hand and all the blond could do was let out a long, shuddering hiss and grip raven-colored locks for leverage. He writhed and moaned as vibrations from amused laughter sent tiny sparks of pleasure skittering up his spine.

Neither man looked even marginally rested (or presentable) in the morning, but both did appear quite smug. Deservedly so—despite the inordinately long night, the two managed to outscore the entire class.

* * *

Chicago's most skilled defense attorney stood in his expertly-decorated living room, minimalist blacks and whites doing nothing to turn his mind from the bittersweet recollections now monopolizing it. A sharp gaze traced the long expanse of Lake Michigan and looked toward Hyde Park from his sixtieth floor window. If he squinted, he could barely make out the towers of the University half a city away. Or perhaps it was his imagination.

_It's dangerous to look behind. I've worked too hard to turn back—even to a breathtaking blond who tastes like sin and feels like no one else. _

For the second time in as many days, he strengthened his resolve to leave the other man in peace. It was best for the both of them.

Paradoxical, it was, that the Assistant DA was convinced he'd been jilted on account of indifference or lack of sentiment. _If only he knew it was _me_ I was guarding him from_, Hirato thought, a wry smile contorting his lips. _Too late now._

He settled on the sofa and dialed Tsukitachi, long fingers scrubbing through inky hair in sudden exhaustion.

"Hello?" The red-haired man always sounded on the perpetual edge of a snicker. It was an infectious trait, one that contributed to their ongoing amity.

"Do me a favor."

"What's that?"

"Tell Bizante I'm working from home today."

Tsukitachi hesitated but acquiesced eventually. "….Sure thing."

"Thanks." He made to end the connection.

"Hey, Hirato?" The tone of concern in his interlocutor's voice caused a small flare of irritation. _Am I being that obvious? How disappointing._

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Tsukitachi paused. When he received no response, he continued. "You seem a bit… distracted."

He sighed. "I'm fine." And because he knew that alone would prove unsatisfactory, "…now."

"Okay. Well, you know you can call if you need anything, right?" It was a genuine offer, of that he was certain. Tsukitachi was not the posturing sort. Not generally speaking, anyway.

_Not about this I can't. _"I appreciate it, but I'm fine. Really. It's just that my brother took a swing at me today and I'd rather not meet clients with a bruised jaw."

"Gareki kicked your ass?" Raucous hilarity met his confession, but he didn't mind. "Did you deserve it?"

"I might have." He smiled fondly at the mental image of his sibling's ire. "But trust me, it was worth it. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

After his third cup of coffee (brewed by an unusually accommodating brunet), Akari was feeling more like the city's finest prosecutor. He'd been alert all afternoon. He'd been productive. He'd been blissfully preoccupied, and therefore largely inured of the phantasm of Hirato's lips against his. Or so he thought. Having caught himself sliding hesitating fingers across his own mouth for what seemed like the thousandth time, he conceded that his immunity to the other man was more tenuous than previously assumed. _Goddamn him. _He had half a mind to call the conniving imp and threaten him with assault charges. _Ah, but he _wants_ me to react like so. Maybe silence is best…_

A soft knock disrupted these ruminations.

"Come in," he called, grateful for the interruption.

The office's latest hire shuffled through the door, atypically subdued in comportment, eyes focused on the carpet.

"What can I do for you, Gareki?" _And don't make this about _him_, _he appended mentally.

"I'm so sorry."

Akari arched a brow in mild surprise. "For what?"

"For bringing Hirato here. For causing trouble after you'd been kind enough to give me a place to work."

"Don't be. I expected a visit from dear elder brother when I took you on." He rubbed his temples; talk of his erstwhile lover was so damnably tedious.

"Well, I'm sure you deal with plenty of evil bastards in your line of work without my adding to the lot."

Akari's answering sigh was resigned, defeated. "Your brother's not evil. He cares for you more than you know, or even want to acknowledge, apparently." Nectarine eyes leveled seriously upon cobalt. He'd have been hard pressed to articulate why it was so imperative to impart this point to the younger man; he certainly didn't _owe_ Hirato anything. "What you deem meddling is a show of concern."

"He meddles with you too. By your logic, does that mean—"

"—Likely not. With me it's out of residual habit or enmity. I've not discerned which." That any real, substantial affection lingered between them was far too fatiguing a prospect to consider. "Anyway, I've a mountain of police reports to analyze, so if you don't mind…"

"There's one more thing," Gareki said, a trace of color dusting his cheeks.

"Yes?"

"Yogi. He's not doomed, is he?"

The older man forced his emergent smile into a tight line before it could manifest fully. "No. But I _do_ wonder why you'd be so anxious given that you met only this morning."

"He's a really nice guy. I'd hate to see him fired or suspended on my account."

Akari scoffed. "Do I give off the impression of an idiot?"

Gareki merely huffed before relenting, recognizing that he was ill-prepared for a battle of wits. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. He's hot. Very hot. Not like that's news or anything. Anyone on the street would say the same." A few breaths passed between them; the youth was clearly waiting for a reply. He received none. "Oh, fuck you, Akari."

There was no suppressing the grin precipitated by the other's embarrassment. "I'd suspected as much." The DA adopted a more serious tone, hoping to inculcate sufficient wariness. "You should know that Yogi is… exceptional. His past has resulted in a sort of emotional fragility. As you saw today, he can go from guileless and innocent to wrathful and unyielding in a blink. He's—"

Gareki cut in with a dismissive wave. "Look, you've been more of a brother to me than Hirato, and I appreciate all you've done. But I don't need coddling at the moment."

"It's not you I'm protecting." Akari's irises flashed in warning. "Don't pursue him if your intent is conquest alone." _Because he'll fall too easily, precisely as I did._

The younger nodded in understanding. "Got it."

* * *

Night fell over Chicago like silk. Hirato had been so immersed in work that he hadn't noticed. He swiveled around in his desk chair and gazed at a glittering metropolis through the office windows. His current accommodations had cost a small fortune, and as the golden grid of the city's heart stretched forth into a blue-black horizon, he reaffirmed the incalculable worth of the view. The world seemed malleable from aloft—like he could move it according to whim with a few choice words and a charming wink or two. It was for that very reason he chose a condominium on the sixtieth floor of a glass palace that skirted the sky; each room boasted another vista, another god-like opportunity to impassively observe those below.

Whenever he grew dissatisfied with attending from above, he deigned to mingle with Chicago's denizens, preferably at a trendy bar peopled with the successful and beautiful, and more often than not with the promiscuous and solicitous.

Having grown weary of work, he decided that having someone might wholly rid him of the past. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pictured another body spread open underneath him, sweat-slicked skin sliding against his and breath hot in his ear. _A panacea for all my ills._

An hour later, he'd settled himself at the city's most exclusive high-rise lounge, predacious violet irises raking the crowd for a suitable target. The room was sparsely populated and uncommonly quiet, but that had never thwarted Hirato's ambitions in the past. Tonight, however, the lawyer needn't have bothered canvassing. A lanky blond had been eyeing him since he entered. The stranger lurked in the shadows and nursed a drink, clearly biding time, marking his quarry. Finally, he sidled up and perched on an adjacent stool, light-colored irises darkening with prurience. "You seem lonely," he said.

_And you seem like prey. Prey with clichéd lines, no less. _"You're quite presumptuous, aren't you?" Hirato turned and regarded the interloper appraisingly. Lean limbs, pale, almost luminescent skin, and eyes that looked like jewels under the ambient illumination. The man canted his head, a new pattern of fluorescent lights revealing that his irises were grey, not ruby. _Not like Akari's. _That errant notion was smothered with another long drink. "What's your name?"

"Call me Xander," he stated simply.

_A mysterious pseudonym. How unforgivably trite, _the brunet mocked silently. He was indeed interested, but not remotely impressed by such clumsy technique. "Is that your real name?"

"Does it matter?" the blond queried, lips twisted in roguery. Ah, so this striking, assertive creature was an initiate, was he? _Perfect._

Hirato adopted his most disarming smile. "No."

Cool fingers brushed along the tiny laceration on his cheek. _Presumptuous indeed. And quite forward too. How cute. _Xander leaned in, breath ghosting across the thin, raised scar. He leaned past and murmured into the shell of Hirato's ear, warm exhales skimming his neck. "Now who would mar a face like that? A dismissed lover, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid the truth is far less scintillating. Sibling rivalry."

"You poor thing." Under the countertop, a discreet hand landed on his thigh and traveled scandalously higher and higher, thumb following the seam of his trousers with remarkable abandon. "Fortunately for you, I've just the thing to lift your spirits."

"Do you now?" Hirato wondered idly about the amount of alcohol he'd imbibed if he was liable to persuasion with minimal effort on his would-be seducer's part. After a few moments' reflection, he found that he didn't much care. Uncomplicated sex had been his aim all along, and this Xander would doubtless be satiated with a single evening. Add to that the fact that he was undeniably alluring and well-experienced, and the next several hours' events became a foregone conclusion.

* * *

Tousled argentine hair shone blue in the light streaming through the bedroom windows. Xander had been everything promised and more, yet Hirato itched for something, something lingering just beyond his reach. Maybe his longing was occasioned by the shape of the other man's tangle of long limbs under the sheets. If he stared long enough, he could imagine Akari's lithe body warming his bed. Or perhaps it was that this evening's conquest bore more than a passing resemblance to his former paramour. Probably, it was that his slipping in and out of bed had not disturbed the sleeping man in the least. How he missed Akari's bleary glare whenever he shifted, as if Hirato was not only expected but _obligated _to spend every nighttime moment in immediate proximity. _That_ blond had always been more tactile and affectionate after sex. _That _blond had never failed to fully satisfy him. This blond was a shade of the one whose place he usurped. Hirato smiled bitterly as his eyes roved over the snoozing form at his side.

Suddenly his cellphone rang, jarring him out of nostalgia and his bedmate out of slumber. Xander sat up and blinked a few times, vision acclimating just in time to catch the brunet stalking out the room.

Hirato nearly groaned when he saw the number. "What could you possibly want at this hour? A designated driver?"

Tsukitachi faltered momentarily, and that's when he realized something had gone horribly awry. The red-haired man rarely sounded so grave. "Akari Dezart's been shot."

"What?" He placed a hand to his mouth as the words registered. A breath caught in his throat; his mockery of a heart went crashing to the floor, taking along with it every wistful reminder of what he'd cast aside so heedlessly: His partner resisting a romp on account of exams. A watchful bedmate so attuned to his nearness that he stirred whenever Hirato woke in the night. Arresting opaline eyes, and lips so soft and gentle they felt like velvet brushing his. He'd lost a lover; forfeited love. _Oh god. What if memories are all I have left? _The possibility was ruthlessly shoved aside. _No, he's not gone. I'd know if he were. _"You'd better tell me he's okay," he growled, as though commands would craft reality.

"He's alive but not out of the woods. The next forty-eight hours are critical."

"Where'd they take him?" Already he'd begun to gather various items and stuff them into an overnight bag, inwardly enumerating what he'd require for the next few nights.

"UChicago Medical Center."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, only fleetingly vexed that Tsukitachi had gleaned their history. Those types of secrets mattered very little at present.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No. I'm leaving immediately." It was remarkable how rationality overwhelmed his thoughts. Somewhere in the nether regions of his awareness, the agonizing sting of conceivably losing Akari was clawing away at his defenses; nevertheless, his brain worked with calculated alacrity, neglecting all but the most essential directives: _Put on some clothes. Pack your things. Drive to the hospital_. _Be at your lover's side. _

"Hirato." He'd forgotten Tsukitachi was still on the line.

"Yes?" Exasperation underscored the word. Didn't the other man comprehend the urgency of the situation?

"It was Azana."

_"What?"_ The revelation was enough to fell him. He dropped into the couch, head in hand and heartbeat suspended as cold fury flooded his veins. _I'll burn him. I'll destroy everything he _ever_ cared about. He'll pay interest on each drop of Akari's blood. _

Xander had stumbled out of the bedroom and slipped behind the couch while the attorney attempted to regain control of faculties that had been hijacked by rage. He felt a desirous palm slide along his shoulder, sending a trill through his frame that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with feelings of betrayal. The appendage was slapped away so forcefully that echoes resounded in the room. Grey orbs went wide with alarm. Still, Xander stayed. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying and failing to sound properly concerned.

"Tsukitachi, I'll call you when I get there." Hirato snapped his phone shut and regarded his houseguest, gaze narrowed venomously as if the man were somehow responsible for Akari's injuries. "There's been an emergency. I'm leaving. You can make yourself at home until morning. My housekeeper will see you out." He stood abruptly and made for the bedroom.

Xander trailed behind. "What can I do?"

Hirato barked sarcastically, startling his visitor. _You can stop pretending to give a shit. You can start acting like a one-night stand. _"Nothing." He stepped into his discarded slacks and pulled on his shirt, not bothering to shake out the wrinkles. Myriad things that mattered only this morning had disintegrated into meaninglessness.

"Well, can I call you when this is over?" the blond asked hopefully.

Under different circumstances, he might have been intrigued by the man's persistence—interested enough to entertain another round of sport, even. Not tonight. "No," he replied flatly, slamming the front door without saying goodbye. His mind was consumed by a single vow: _I won't fail Akari this time._

* * *

NB: Hirato will feel the full range of emotions resultant from Akari's injuries (including that oh-so-angsty emotion guilt). Please be patient on that front.

And before you all come for _my _blood: Akari doesn't die. Yeah, it's a bit of a spoiler but I'm sure you'd have guessed as much since he's a main character in this story.


	5. Chapter 5

I can't believe that you guys *like* my crazy, off the wall AU! Wow.

I broke so many hospital visitation rules in this chapter that I ought to be arrested. And if you've read any of my other stuff, you know that I know very little about medicine. Do suspend your disbelief, okay?

FYI: This is a slow burn story. Each chapter is designed to answer one or two questions, but will inevitably generate more inquiries. Please be patient.

That said, this chapter is more exposition than action.

* * *

By the time Hirato arrived at the hospital, Akari had already undergone surgery and been admitted to the critical care unit. _If I weren't out looking for random ass, I'd have been here when he was brought in. _He tried to smother that thought with all manner of rationalizations: _I couldn't have known… We aren't together anymore… I swore to leave him alone… _Each one was dismissed as soon as it surfaced from the murky haze that had commandeered his consciousness. At the end of the day, it mattered very little. His charge had been to protect Akari. And he'd failed unforgivably.

Being the analytical sort, the defense attorney calculated the odds and prepared himself to be accosted by Akari's trusty second-in-command. But today was teeming with the unexpected; he rounded the corner and found Gareki assaulting him for the second time. His younger brother was often demonstrative of his anger, true, but never like this. His eyes were narrowed and bloodshot as he squared himself up to match as much of the older man's height as possible. Ashenness had suffused his flesh, making him look painfully wan. But there was vehemence in his grip as he seized fistfuls of Hirato's coat and slammed him into the wall, making it inescapably clear that Gareki would relish ripping him apart.

"You! You evil sonofabitch! You're the reason Azana's free, and if you think I'm going to stand around and let you waltz in here like you actually give a shit, you've got another thing coming." He was off; there was no reasoning with Gareki when he was like so. The most efficacious course of action was to let the youth air all his frustrations until he exhausted himself. "What the fuck are you here for, anyway? You want to celebrate? I bet you plann—"

A smart slap resounded through the hallway, startling the few nurses on duty.

Hirato had heard enough. Defenses already crumbled as a result of Akari's life being threatened, he was in no fit state to entertain cutting remarks and cruel accusations. Insinuating that he'd want Akari dead was a vicious transgression of his rather generous capacity for indulgence. "If you _seriously_ think that I'd contrive something like this, then you don't know me at all." His tone was poison. Calmness undergirded each word, but Gareki knew that this was Hirato at his most dangerous. "You want to be treated like an adult, right? Try acting like one and solve your problems with rationality instead of cheap shots and brute force."

The younger would hear none of it. He cupped his cheek and glared in indignation. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to play big brother when the one who treated me like a brother might..." his voice faltered along with his stare.

Hirato understood perfectly then, every ounce of his fury melting away with the realization.

He wrapped his arms around a protesting Gareki, waiting until the young man stilled before speaking. "I'm frightened too," he admitted, quiet and low enough to reach his sibling alone. It was likely that Akari would survive if he'd made it through surgery, but lives are fragile things. This Hirato knew too well. Gareki's hands clenched in his coat again—a small sign of anguish, of need. The two were alike in that regard; neither was given to ostentation in emotional display. "Get some rest now. I'll handle it from here."

With that, tremulous fingers extricated themselves from his clothes. Gareki peered at him like he'd never properly _seen_ him before. "Hirato—"

"Later, okay?"

His brother nodded in comprehension. "I'm going to take Yogi home. He's a wreck."

"Here, take my car," Hirato offered, fishing the keys out of his pocket. "I'm parked on 58th in front of the ER."

Gareki stepped into Akari's room to retrieve Yogi. Hirato watched through tinted glass as he knelt in front of the shattered deputy, one hand perched consolingly on his knee and the other gingerly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The older man lingered in the hallway, wanting to give the two some privacy. He attempted to avert his attention, but it was captivating—the way cautious hands slipped through straw-colored locks, how hesitatingly Gareki settled his lips against Yogi's, how his kiss betrayed affection but not desire.

If his cognizance weren't monopolized by images of another blond, Hirato would have choked in astonishment. It was unlike the younger to be so effusive—yet another proclivity the two shared. If the awe made his eyes brighten for an instant, it was nothing compared with how wide Yogi's lavender orbs grew in response to the overture. The junior prosecutor stared ahead, blinking for several wordless moments before affording a crooked, watery smile.

_Ah, I've just witnessed the first kiss. _He might have mocked inwardly were he not preoccupied by how uncertain Akari had been all those years ago when he'd leaned across a library table to sample Hirato's mouth—as if the resident prodigy's at-the-time study partner would never deign to the title of lover, like the brunet was the unattainable one. He remembered their being found by a prudish librarian and the scolding that ensued. Akari had gone rigid with mortification.

He'd waited an eternity for that kiss. In retrospect, it had been worth every second of agony. As had the second—the one that took place while they were tangled in Hirato's sheets that night.

Footfall clicked along the tiled floor, jarring him out of nostalgia. Yogi, distraught as he was, made a beeline towards him, staccato stride echoing through the quietude. "If anything happens to him," he swore, malice dripping from every syllable, "I'll beat the shit out of you….before I destroy everything you care for."

_Too late for that, I'm afraid. _Hirato felt no compulsion to defend himself, so he allowed the deputy DA as long and as aggressive a leer as desired. With that icy growl, steely gaze, and a perfectly steady finger pointed directly at his chest, Yogi certainly looked capable of making good on his threats.

Minutes passed in tense silence before Gareki's pragmatism broke the standstill. He stalked forward and wrapped his arms low around the blond's waist, tugging him near. "If anything happens to Akari, I promise, he'll let you," he whispered before leading a still-furious Yogi away by the hand. He paused long enough for a fleeting backwards glance. "Akari's a fighter; he's going to wake. Don't fuck up when he does, Hirato."

"I won't," he assured, almost penitent that he'd treated his brother so harshly. Gareki wasn't remotely as immature as suspected.

* * *

The room was dark, its sole illumination coming from the various monitors and panels surrounding the unconscious man. Sounds became muffled as Hirato stepped over the threshold—the barely-audible beep of the heart monitor, the muted rise and fall of a ventilator. Time stood suspended in concomitant limbo with Akari's life. He walked forward reservedly, fearful of disturbing the hush lest he upset whatever precarious cosmic balance was sustaining the blond.

The Assistant DA wasn't frail or delicate by any imaginative stretch, but he definitely looked breakable with all the tubes and wires attached to his sunken frame. Hirato bit back the urgent impulse to rip them away. Instead, he reached forth and placed his hand against the other man's chest, grateful for the metronymic heartbeat fluttering underneath his palm. _At least you're alive. Thank god for that. _

"He can't feel you, you know." He started and whirled around to find Eva seated in a chair against the wall, her face half-obscured by shadow. She'd been hidden from view all this time.

"Eva?" Hirato inquired softly. "Why are you here?"

She continued speaking as though she'd not heard. "Some passersby found him near 53rd and Drexel. At 2AM. Lord knows what he was up to at that hour."

He edged closer, wary of the heartache written upon her face. Pearly tears clung to long eyelashes and a damp handkerchief dangled from her trembling hand_. _Clearly, Akari had moved another supposedly-immoveable individual. "How do you—"

"I have to hand it to him. Would you believe that he named Azana before he lost consciousness?" She shook her head in mock exasperation. "How like him to prioritize the case…"

Hirato crouched and studied aquamarine irises for any tell, any indication of why his associate would cry over a man who was, for all intents and purposes, an enemy. "I'm still trying to work out why you're here."

"Did you think he was all yours? That he had no other acquaintances?"

The defense attorney's day had been one protracted experiment in the unpredictable. At this point, nothing could unsettle him. "Of course not. I just didn't expect that he'd have friends at our firm."

"Who do you suppose told Tsukitachi?" she asked. "I'd have called you myself, but I wanted to get here immediately."

He could only sigh. _Later_, he decided. _I'll get the full story later. _ Right now, more pressing matters were at hand. He stood and shuffled again to the bed, violet orbs raking over the prone form as if the intensity of his contrition was sufficient to heal the injured man. Dark circles had formed under Akari's closed eyes. That coupled with his striking pallor made the typically-breathtaking prosecutor look frighteningly gaunt and much, much older. Hirato inhaled sharply. _Like a corp—_

"There's a coffee shop nearby. We should talk," Eva said, some strength returning to her voice. He silently thanked her for arresting the inertia of his thoughts. "You'll drive yourself crazy if you stay here. We can do nothing but wait."

He dropped his overnight bag, not at all desirous of leaving Akari's side, but aware that his compatriot was right. His presence was superfluous. Anyway, another could benefit from some comforting; his colleague had never looked so careworn. "Can I have a minute first?"

"Sure." She stepped outside after drawing the blinds and closing the door.

Had Akari's mouth not been obstructed with an oxygen mask, Hirato would have pilfered a kiss. _What number would that be, I wonder. The thousandth? Two thousandth? _Chary fingers swept aside imaginary strawberry strands, seeking any expedient to touch. He leaned down, wishing against reason that the words would register somehow. "Stay with me," he petitioned, not knowing if he was pleading or praying. "There's so much we've left unsaid." A swift press of lips against Akari's forehead. "It's selfish, I know. Just humor me, okay? I can't lose you like this."

* * *

The first tendrils of nectarine light were breaking through the coffee shop's steamy windows when Hirato brought two lattes over to the tiny table Eva had selected. The cramped café occupied but a corner of the university bookstore, nearly every inch of its square footage taken up by groggy undergraduates and harried administrators. It was so late (or so early) that a new day had dawned without his noticing until now. He cast about the room, watching the lately-caffeinated patrons slowly drift towards the shelves of books, their eyes wandering lazily from one volume to the next. Fragments of conversations about French philosophy and particle physics filtered through the din, making the corner of his mouth curl despite himself. Students with oversized backpacks rushed out the door, winter's first snowflakes sticking against their hats and gloves as they waited to cross the street. _Nothing changes around here_, Hirato observed. _Nothing except me. _

He schooled himself into as neutral an expression as he could manage.

"What is it?" his companion asked. He'd not been adequately neutral, it appeared.

"We used to come here all the time," he answered honestly, altogether too tired to equivocate or posture. "Akari and I. The law school is a few blocks south."

"I know. I'm a city girl."

"I suspected as much when you told me you knew him, but I don't expect most Chicagoans to be intimately familiar with this campus."

Eva wrapped both hands around her cup, appreciative of its heat. She shrugged. "He used to tutor me back when I was at Northwestern. This is where we held our weekly sessions."

A bitter laugh escaped despite Hirato's best efforts to contain it. The DA was so damned predictable. "Of course he did."

"Are you relieved there's nothing more sordid?"

Leave it to his teal-eyed goddess of a colleague to be uncomfortably blunt. "Yes. But only because I'd be insanely jealous if ever he managed to ensnare you."

"Always a prince, aren't you?" Eva queried, brow arched high in sarcasm. He quite liked that he could elicit a smile under these circumstances. "Sweet of you to say, but it was obvious who you wanted when we went out to celebrate your big win. Akari stole your interest without effort."

"About that night…"

She waved in an elegant flourish, dismissing his concerns. "There's no need to apologize. I had no intention of sleeping with you."

"Then why—Oh, I see. You were testing me to see who I'd choose?"

"I wanted to know if you harbored any lingering feelings." Tension gathered perceptibly as she deflected her gaze, observing instead at the denizens of Hyde Park going about their business. Her voice dropped to a hushed murmur. "We still talk from time to time, he and I. Sometimes we'll have lunch when I can get away from the office. He loves you, you know. More than even he perceives."

Whatever words Hirato owned failed at the revelation. _Here I thought he detested me. _

Eva stared into her coffee, watching it swirl invitingly while relating her own relationship with the Assistant DA. "He used to end our study sessions precisely at 7:00. Never at 7:05, not even if I had a litany of questions. We'd pick up where we left off the next week." She paused, considering her associate carefully before looking away again. "Once I asked him why he was always so anxious to leave. He claimed that his brilliant but domestically obtuse partner would feel compelled to cook and that he'd prefer to avoid dealing with a demolished kitchen."

"That's unfair," Hirato huffed, trying to imbue even a trace of levity into the conversation. He dreaded what was forthcoming. "I wasn't that awful."

"Don't worry. I never believed him," she assuaged, placing her hand atop his. "I knew he was eager to go home. He never said much else about you, only that your name was Hirato and you were excruciatingly beautiful."

"If you've known all this time, why didn't you say something?"

"Because one day, he stayed longer than 7:00. He worked so desperately to maintain his facade, but I intuited what had happened. Afterwards, he was never the same. As clever and professional as ever, but not as _alive_ as before." Warm fingers circled Hirato's wrist. "I figured—on the off chance that you reciprocated even a tenth of what he felt for you—bringing it up would only hurt."

He acknowledged her explanation distractedly while his mind reeled with the unspoken and unspeakable. That he never had to witness Akari's grief was the one iota of silver lining regarding their breakup. He'd known the other man would be crushed, of course, but not being personally confronted with his own handiwork was an undeserved mercy greedily received.

Somehow, _hearing_ what he'd done to Akari was far worse than watching it firsthand.

"What happened?" Eva finally asked, precisely as Hirato had predicted. "When I met you—through some weird serendipitous happenstance, no less—I thought that Akari had fallen for an emotionally unavailable jerk—that you'd grown bored and moved on." She smiled sadly and fixed him with an appraising stare. "I guess I was wrong."

_Of course she would want to know. Everyone will want to know. _He scrubbed a hand through his hair, suddenly more weary than he'd been in years. If only he could stifle the unfamiliar feelings now taking root in his psyche—feelings of sorrow and remorse, and those of a more tragic sort that cut too deeply when he imagined how battered Akari currently looked. "I cheated," he confessed.

"So _that's_ why it ended? I always wondered."

"Not quite. He would have forgiven infidelity if it had been some aimless romp." He pulled his hand out of hers, feeling reprehensible for voicing aloud his crimes. "I slept with someone for personal gain…and I didn't come clean until after I'd taken Akari to bed."

"Yeah, I can see why he'd leave you for that," Eva replied flatly. "I'm surprised he doesn't _hate_ you for that." Her mouth tightened into a thin line; she was obviously restraining herself from verbally attacking her companion. Such poise was remarkably impressive; Hirato could stand to take notes.

"I know what it looks like, Eva, but I had my reasons." _I was saving him by breaking it off in such a way that he'd never come back. _"And it wasn't because I was disinterested or uncaring."

"I hope they were good excuses," she spat, resigned to the fact that Hirato would reveal nothing more.

"They seemed so at the time. Now they're regrets."

* * *

He made his way to the hospital as soon as he'd seen Eva off in a taxi.

Freshly-fallen snow crunched underfoot, calling to mind the times the duo had walked hand in hand down these very streets, the brunet practically dragging the other man along. Akari was from Arizona; he'd rarely experienced snowfall. As such, he was fascinated by it, his glittering cerise irises alight with atypical mirth and alabaster skin turned that particular shade of blush that set his partner's imagination afire—one of myriad reasons to herd him inside without delay. Appetency was as acute a concern as hypothermia, after all.

Hirato nearly grinned at the reminiscence before he realized where he was, and why.

_You'd better weather this, Akari, because I refuse to live on memories alone. _

* * *

Liner Notes:

(1) The University of Chicago Medical center is adjacent to the college campus, on the Southside of the city. Both Akari and Hirato are intimately familiar with the location. You probably guessed as much from the narrative. There is, in fact, a cramped coffee shop in the University bookstore. It's always teeming with students and young professionals.

(2) Eva attended Northwestern Law. While Northwestern University is in Evanston, IL, the law school is on the Near North Side (not too far from Hirato's current apartment). As such, she's totally a Chicagoan.

(3) Chicago's Southside is an amazing place, particularly Hyde Park. Even so, it's not always the safest of neighborhoods. Akari would have been terribly foolish to be waltzing around 53rd and Drexel at 2AM. And we know he's not foolish, so…

(4) Akari is a state school guy—University of Arizona. He grew up in Tuscon, and as much as he loves Chicago (and snow), he sometimes misses his hometown. He misses Hirato too. Naturally, he'll admit to neither.

* * *

NB: Hirato's not a terrible, no good, awful human being. And Akari's not a saint. Just wanted to throw that out there.


	6. Chapter 6

I hope you're still suspending your disbelief about medicine, and hospitals, and hell, the human body. Are you? Good.

* * *

_Twenty-seven hours_. Hirato kept a meticulous count. _We still have time_. It was unreasonable, he knew, but something about Tsukitachi claiming that the first forty-eight hours would be crucial burrowed into the recesses of his subconscious and took root. The brunet didn't know if the two-day timeline was arbitrary or medically-substantiated, but he was certain of one thing: each hour that elapsed brought Akari closer and closer to an irreversible coma. _Coma. _The very thought was anathema. Such a state of prolonged inactivity was ill-suited to a man whose whirlwind stamina and super-collider brain never failed to fatigue everyone in immediate vicinity. _Not Akari. Please. _He offered meager supplication to whatever fickle gods might be subject to persuasion.

He'd fallen asleep in the armchair at the DA's bedside more times than he could count, becoming so enduring a fixture that the nurses took pity on him and brought him cup after cup of steaming coffee. He made mental note to send them all flowers when his lover finally regained consciousness.

Yogi and Gareki returned for several hours, relieving him from his post. Both seemed more amenable to his presence after having assessed his current state. Gareki's mouth dropped in shock at the mere sight of a disheveled Hirato. Yogi, too, demonstrated a quiet reverence in response to this unmistakable worry. He left them standing hand-in-hand beside Akari, Gareki's thumb tracing circles on the back of Yogi's palm as glassy lavender orbs welled with tears.

Preferring to allow them their privacy, the defense attorney circumambulated the hospital for want of activity. Despite how far he wandered along the medical center's labyrinthine halls, however, he always found himself pacing before the prosecutor's room. Eventually, the two younger men left, but only after tossing several troubled glances in his general direction.

Others trickled in from time to time—Akari's coworkers and subordinates. Instead of being thankful for their concern, Hirato only grew irritated at their audacity, that they'd dare intrude upon his vigil. Had they no reverence for his grief?

It was nearing hour thirty-one when his caffeine was delivered by a most unexpected visitor. Tokitatsu's typically-bright irises dulled perceptibly as he took in the haggard form of his younger brother. "Hirato—"

"Don't tell me to go home," he said, cool tenor at complete odds with his haphazard appearance.

The elder nodded and took the seat in the far corner of the room, calculating gaze traveling slowly from Akari's sleeping face to that of his sibling. "It's pointless. You'd never listen anyway."

"When did you get here?" Hirato queried, taking a grateful sip from his cup.

"I came directly from the airport; I left Boston immediately after Gareki called." Tokitatsu gestured towards the unconscious man. "When do they expect him to wake?"

"Soon," the younger replied. "If not soon, then…" he trailed off, entirely too reluctant to follow that train of thought to its logical conclusion.

"It's Akari. He'll wake." A reassuring smile. "In the meantime, I figured you could use some support."

Hirato scoffed. "I'm not the one who's unconscious."

"Doesn't mean you're not injured." Oh, how he _reviled_ that about his older brother—that the man could lay bare his most protected secrets so uncharitably, so unceremoniously.

_I suppose it'll have to be candor, then. _The other saw through façades too easily. It was one of the many reasons they rarely dissembled with one another. "I keep thinking, 'What if he wakes up alone?'"

It was Tokitatsu's turn to scorn. "Please. You know the only reason it's not packed in here is because your possessiveness is so thick it's like miasma. So, tell me then, is that your fear for him? Or is that simply _your_ fear?"

Suddenly, the world shifted. Everything certainly looked the same as before—the same hospital, the same steady beeping of the heart monitor, the same rhythmic hum of the air conditioner, the same Akari. Even so, everything _felt_ different. Framed by the window was the very Chicago nighttime skyline that had captivated the young lawyer since he'd moved to the city after college. Yet it had dimmed in that moment, lost its luster, diminished in its allure. The city's loftiest perches could no longer entice him to leave Akari's side.

_It's been _my_ fear all along._

* * *

Heavy footfall lumbered up fourteen flights of stairs to their seventh floor apartment. It was late; Akari would be home, likely settled on the dining table with his face planted in book. He'd be wearing reading glasses—they'd slip to the edge of his nose intermittently, prompting a tiny frustrated sigh to escape pursed lips before long fingers pushed the lenses back into place.

_I'm going to miss that_, Hirato thought, pausing momentarily on each stair just to stretch the time.

Tonight would be their final evening together; his recent machinations had guaranteed as much. If he weren't the self-seeking sort, he'd confess his sins forthwith, allowing the other man opportunity to resist his advances, to deny him the night. But Hirato had always been covetous, particularly when it came to Akari. In fact, it was this selfishness that precipitated the end of their relationship. He'd never be satisfied with working at a second-rate firm or the DA's Office; Akari would never want for anything more. It was bound to end eventually, and ending it abruptly, cruelly—but cleanly—would prove beneficial for all involved parties.

_One day, he'll see this was for the best_, the brunet justified, only marginally disquieted that even he was unconvinced.

He opened the door to find his partner precisely as predicted, sole overhead illumination suffusing the fair-skinned man in a goldish halo. Hirato smiled bitterly. _How apropros._

"It's late," Akari said nonchalantly. "Did your advising meeting run over again?"

"Well, you know Ryoushi."

"I know he likes alcohol and sweets," the blond huffed, looking up from his work to regard his bedmate. "And I know he enjoys your company."

Hirato chuckled. Akari's thinly-veiled jealousy was adorable. It was the only hint of irrationality present in a supremely logical psyche. How he'd miss that too. "Like I'd give that old buffoon the time of day." The brunet strode over to the kitchen table and settled his palms on each side of his partner's book. Bending low, he leaned over the seated man, curved lips skimming affectionately along the warm flesh of his neck. "Not when I come home to you."

Akari's breath hitched as sharp teeth nipped his earlobe, but he remained otherwise unmoved. "Are you suggesting that you _would _sleep with him if we weren't together?"

Hirato leaned forward to steal a kiss. "No. I'm saying that what got me through the meeting was imagining your legs wrapped around me while your fingernails drag scars into my back."

The imagery was sufficient to compel surrender. He was particularly careful with his lover that night—soft, lingering caresses and slow kisses that spoke of sentiment but not cupidity. His fingertips etched silent apologies into alabaster skin as strong arms wrapped around the other man in an effort to close the non-existent distance between them. Even in the middle of their tryst, he regretted that their last hours together would be the most meaningful.

In retrospect, he should have known Akari could read the guilt in his touch.

It was almost morning when the blond finally spoke, and Hirato knew well that he'd spent the intervening time vacillating between seeking truth or ignorant bliss. "What did you do?"

He didn't bother to refute the accusation. Nevertheless, he took the other's hand, wanting to feel its reassuring warmth once more. "The unthinkable."

"Are you sure it's unforgiveable?" Akari propped his head on an elbow, affect yielding and indulgent; he was prepared to forgive without knowing what had transpired. The realization caused Hirato's travesty of a heart to shatter into pieces too innumerable to count. "I expected being with you would be a protracted experiment in compromise."

"Not this time."

And that's when the blond's entire demeanor changed. His hand slipped from Hirato's grasp and vermillion irises narrowed in indictment. "You cheated." It wasn't a question.

"That's not all," the brunet continued resignedly. Akari wasn't the histrionic type. He wouldn't curse or fume or try to negotiate. No, his ever-rational partner would react with stoic reserve. In many ways, this was much worse a punishment. He deserved hatred at the very least. "I slept with Bizante's son because he said he could get me an interview with his father."

And there it was—the devastating truth. Not only had he frittered away his lover's trust, he'd lost his respect as well.

"You have the next thirty seconds to tell me that this is a sick joke," Akari whispered unsteadily. The words were acerbic, frigid. "After that, I'm leaving."

_Best to be thorough_, Hirato thought. _Demonstrate how shameless I really am. _He leaned up in an attempted kiss. "I'm so sorry..."

The other's only response was a slap so hard that echoes resounded in the ensuing quietude. "Never try to kiss me again."

Akari sat up and started pulling on his clothes wordlessly. Tiny tremors wracked his frame—the tell-tale signs of the intense rage now overwhelming him. Hirato wanted nothing more than to hold the blond until the trembling stopped, until Akari was his again. But he recognized it was too late for remorse, and instead of offering even an iota of comfort, he added insult to injury. "I don't want you to leave." _And that's the truth too._

"I could never live with myself if I stayed." Akari made to stand. Without thinking, Hirato reached out, instinctively curling his fingers around the other man's wrist. The blond jerked away. "Don't you dare touch me after touching _him _with the same hands!"

That growled rebuke was the only signifier of heartache that Hirato ever witnessed.

* * *

Tokitatsu's appraising stare hadn't wavered one whit. "What were you thinking, little brother?" he murmured, and Hirato knew that he wasn't inquiring after the subject of his recent thoughts. Rather, he was asking about the one thing he himself had been wondering since the night he'd forced Akari to walk out all those years ago.

"I was thinking of myself—my unquenchable ambition, my desire to be the best, to _have_ the best, my increasing propensity for infidelity." Hirato stopped. "I wanted everything; Akari only wanted me."

"So you pushed him away?" Tokitatsu wondered idly.

"In the most callous way imaginable." He barked a hollow laugh, staggered by the sheer imbecility of his twenty-six year old self. "I never wanted him to lament what could have been. I thought I was protecting him from me, or rather, from the me I would inevitably become."

"You moron."

He nodded in agreement, astonished at how easily he confided in his brother. "Our lives were diverging. As he looked for openings at the DA's Office and Legal Aid, I looked for opportunities to network with the city's biggest firms. I thought he'd finally see me for what I was."

"What are you?" Tokitatsu looked truly perplexed then.

"All the things he says I am: arrogant, deceitful, vain." The defense attorney took a deep breath, surprised at pain resultant from the epiphany. A dull, aching sensation caused his chest to tighten, suddenly making it difficult to breathe. "Superficial. Empty."

His brother laughed outright at what ought to have been a somber admission. Hirato scowled, but the elder simply disregarded him. "If you were those things and nothing more, you'd be out celebrating right now." Tokitatsu smiled as the implications registered. "You're not nearly as depraved as you believe you are. Though admittedly, the marks on your neck suggest the opposite." A bemused snicker. "It's the only department wherein you underachieve."

Hirato cleared his throat awkwardly and readjusted his collar, concealing the slowly-fading mementos from his liaison with Xander. "You sound just like Akari. He always thought better of me than I merited."

"Maybe. But don't forget that he knew you—knows you—more intimately than anyone." Finishing his coffee and standing, Tokitatsu walked forward and ruffled his brother's hair, causing Hirato to swat his hand away so vehemently it stung. He chuckled, terribly amused by the younger's ill-humor. "You're a good man, you know. Before you can again convince Akari of that, you're going to have to convince yourself."

"You say that like I'm trying to win him back."

"Of course you are. Why else would you be here?" Tokitatsu merely shook his head in incredulity. "Go track down a Thai delivery place or something, Hirato. I'm hungry, and I'd like a few minutes alone with Akari."

* * *

Clouded nectarine orbs took in the sleeping figure. Akari's vision was still blurry, but he could clearly make out the identity of the man whose fingers interlaced with his and whose inky hair spilled across his wrist. Hirato had fallen asleep in a terribly awkward position. Clearly, he'd been sitting in a chair and clutching the patient's hand before he was overcome by drowsiness.

Akari would have hazarded a sloppy smile if he weren't in an ungodly amount of pain. The early morning light made Hirato look almost angelic, creamy skin afire and long lashes dark crescents against smooth porcelain. The blond's gaze traveled from the ashen circles forming under his beautiful dreamer's eyes to the wrinkled shirt he wore. _ He must have rushed out of the house. _But fantasies of Hirato being so moved that he left home without a change of clothes crashed around him when he took in the bite marks just visible above an open collar and the rope burn circling the wrist entangled with his own. _Or he looks tired for other reasons._ He didn't much have the energy to grumble, but he did manage to extricate himself from the other man. Hirato stirred at the movement, violet eyes blinking slowly before acknowledging the significance of what had happened.

"You're awake!" He stood abruptly and stretched an arm forward, intending to brush an errant lock of hair from Akari's brow. "I've waited so long."

Words exhausted the blond, but he had to speak. "Don't you dare… touch me," he took a few tentative inhales, throat sandpaper from being parched, "with those hands." And then the effort of talking became too much. He sighed heavily and adopted the most menacing glare he could manage.

Hirato looked at his hand, wondering briefly what was wrong before catching the evidence of his latest rendezvous peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeve. _Goddamnit. _"Akari..." Akari what? What could he say? _It's not what you think. _Except it was precisely what it looked like, and he'd learned from direct experience that his erstwhile lover loathed being handled with tainted hands. _Will you ever forgive me? _He nodded tersely. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He leaned over the prone man and pressed the call button. In seconds, the room was flooded with nurses and doctors, swirls of white fabric and muffled, urgent voices. He was swiftly ushered outside and left to watch through the window as Akari was put through the paces of rousing from a two-day slumber.

The DA winced when the doctor examined his wound; Hirato's fingers scratched impotently against the glass in response. In his fear that he'd never see those arresting ruby eyes again, he'd forgotten all about Azana. The agonized grimace on the blond's face brought all promises of vengeance rushing back, sending an incandescence rushing through his system and stirring his cognizance in service of requital.

Mind whirling in an attempt to piece together his revenge, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed Eva. She'd made him swear to call if Akari's condition changed.

"Hello?" Eva answered on the first ring. "Hirato? Is something wrong?"

He smiled in solidarity; she'd been as anxious as he was, apparently. "Actually, he's awake."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all," he assured his colleague, downright beaming at the relief in her cadence. "He's even glowering at people. And being a total dick."

The statuesque beauty laughed her tinkling, melodious laugh and Hirato found that it consoled him for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. "Did you do something to deserve it?"

"Of course not."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you. Tell him I'm on my way, will you?"

"I will." A breath's length passed in hesitation. "Eva, I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Her suspicion was evident.

"I have a plan. To get him back." He hated the vulnerability attendant to the request, but he'd need assistance bordering on the miraculous if ever he were to come into the prosecutor's good graces again. "I want you to help me."

"No." Eva's tone brooked no resistance; her refusal was final. "I won't let you play games with him when he's like this."

"I thought you might say that," Hirato conceded. He was certain that he'd filled his quota for earnestness—for the next decade. Still, it was but a pittance in comparison to his remuneration if he should succeed. "What if I told you that I'd only move forward with your approval?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" she spat. "Akari couldn't."

Typically, he'd never betray himself so cheaply, but the venom in Eva's tone made his breath catch.

She recanted almost immediately. "Hirato, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," he said. And it was. It really was. Akari had never properly confronted him for being a right bastard. It was only fair that _someone_ should. "Just hear me out. If you do, you'll have enough information to ruin me professionally. That's how important this is."

Lingering hesitation belied her silence, but she acquiesced anyway. "Fine, but if I don't agree with this so-called plan, I'm going to do everything to stop you."

"That's good enough." He smirked into the receiver. One chance was all he required. He'd made victories of far less. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay." She ended the call.

Hirato was about to pocket the phone when it chimed again. Amethyst orbs widened at the exceedingly familiar number. A dangerous, deadly leer wormed its way across his lips as he placed the handset to his ear. "Azana. You're a brave man," he mocked.

The voice on the other line was terrified, insecure—the very opposite of brave, or any variant thereof. _Good, you worthless piece of shit. You should be afraid. _"You have to help me, Hirato. They think I tried to kill Akari Dezart."

"Calm down," he soothed, adopting his most professional manner. "Tell me what happened." _So I can bury you._

"It was self-defense, I swear." His interlocutor's desperation was so intense that he could _feel_ it over the line. It was positively ambrosial.

"I'm afraid the police aren't going to see it that way. To them, it looks like you shot and very nearly killed one of their own," he said, barely masking the sarcasm in his tone. "You're lucky he's alive." _Very lucky, in fact._

The other man sputtered. "L-L-Look, he'd been stalking me ever since I was released. He followed me home that night. Believe me, I was only protecting myself."

And that's when his heart stopped beating for what seemed an eternity. "He did _what_?" He knew with unfailing certitude that Azana was telling the truth. Shadowing unpunished criminals was precisely something that Akari would do. Hirato's eyes narrowed viciously at the man being poked and prodded beyond the window pane. _You fucking idiot, Akari. Why would you do such a thing?_

* * *

Liner Notes/NBs:

(1) Tokitatsu went to Harvard Law. Like Hirato, he went to Yale for undergrad. Unlike Hirato, he's a grown-up.

(2) The only person to whom Hirato owes the full truth is Akari. Some things about their relationship may not make perfect sense right now. Be patient. They will.

(3) I hope you guys are prepared for the triumphant arrival of manipulative bastard!Hirato. He'll be driving the plot from now on.

(4) You didn't think Akari would wake up and then everything would be sunshine and daisies, did you? Some wounds don't heal so easily.

(5) Remember that 'Aloft' is not a request-based story. All requests should be directed to 'Karnevalesque'. Sorry guys, but this plot is all planned out now, so there's no room to make emendations.

(6) Are you liking how things are progressing, dear readers? If so, please leave a review/PM. If not, please leave a review/PM anyway. Writers say this all the time, and usually we're just fishing for feedback, but this time it's completely true: I am more likely to update quickly if I know you care about this story, so tell me if you do. I'm writing three stories right now and I typically update in order of reader enthusiasm.


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